Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
by tinuelena
Summary: A pre July 21, full length, fan written Book Seven.
1. Chapter 1

The last claws of cool spring still held fast to the robes of Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy as they fled the Hogwarts grounds. 

"Quick!" yelled Snape. "With me!"

With one last frantic burst of speed, Draco grabbed for Snape's arm, and they Disapparated just in time to miss a well-aimed Petrificus Totalus and a furious rush from Buckbeak, whose loud screeches pierced the forbidding night air.

"Bloody hell!" swore Tonks, firing red sparks at the ground in frustration, and turned back to Hagrid, who was kneeling at Harry's side, one large hand on his shoulder.

"Yeh all righ', Harry? Yeh all righ'? Speak ter me, Harry..."

Draco and Snape appeared outside a shabby, neglected brick house. "What is this place?" Draco demanded instantly, repulsed at the sight of such poverty. "Where are we?"

"Spinner's End," Snape replied impatiently, bursting through the door. "We haven't much time-- some of the Order knew I lived here. We have to find somewhere else to go."

"You lived here?" Draco said incredulously. He picked up a cracked teacup from a rickety end table with amused interest.

Snape glared at him. "Put that down," he spat.

He did.

"There are a few things, Draco, that would be prudent to remember. First of all, the Dark Lord is going to be none too pleased that your mother went behind his back to protect you. If you had killed Dumbledore, it may not have made much of a difference. However, since you lacked the backbone necessary to finish your task, I had to step in and do it for you, and this little fact is going to rub the Unbreakable Vow that your mother made with me directly in his face."

"I was--"

"Second of all," Snape interrupted, "know that the Dark Lord probably meant for you to fail."

Draco fell silent.

"Your father disappointed him, and he gave you this task with the assumption that you would try, then fail, then he would be rid of you and have an excuse to get rid of him. The Dark Lord likes to play games with his servants, Draco. Do not assume that you are special. He has no friends, no confidants. All of us are dispensable. Understand?"

He nodded.

"Now, you may think you put yourself into his favor by having a hand in Dumbledore's murder, but in reality, you did the opposite. There are two reasons for this. One, you threw a wrench into his plans. He thought you would fail, yet you succeeded. Now he has to figure out another use for you, and he has to figure out what to do with Lucius. Two, killing Albus Dumbledore is something he could never do. To know that a sixteen-year-old wizard accomplished the task of skirting Dumbledore's security, getting Death Eaters into Hogwarts, and bringing the greatest wizard on earth to his knees while he, the Dark Lord could not-- this will not sit well with the Dark Lord." Snape shot a warning stare at the young wizard opposite him. "Humility has never been a strong point of yours, Draco. Perhaps it is best you begin practicing."

Draco watched anxiously as several of Snape's belongings came whizzing down the staircase and jammed themselves neatly in a bag. "What are we going to do?"

"We?" Snape laughed shortly. "I cannot be your babysitter, Draco."

His eyes widened. "But you said--"

Snape shut his case and strode over to him. "I said that I would get you out of here. I'll get you to someplace safe. But after that, you are on your own."

"I'll go back home," Draco said, half to himself. "Mother will--"

"You cannot go home," Snape said, gathering up his things. "They'll search for you there. He'll search for you there."

"What? What do you mean, he'll search for me there? Who am I on the run from?"

Snape fastened his cloak. "That's really up to you, Draco. But I am fairly certain that if the Dark Lord finds you, it will only be a matter of time before you are dead."

Draco stared back at him.

"Now come along."

Grudgingly, Draco went to stand by his Head of House. He felt the familiar unpleasant sensation of Apparition, as if he were a square peg being forced through a tiny round hole, and a moment later he found himself standing in front of a broken-down little shack. Looking around himself, he saw the edge of Hogsmeade glittering in the distance.

Seeing the question in his eyes, Snape obliged with an answer. "I've been hiding right under their noses for years," he said dryly. "Trust me, this place is safe." He unlocked the door and ushered Draco inside.

"Stay here. I'll come back for you."

"Where are you going?"

"There are some things I need to take care of." And with that, he was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

Rain lashed against the tightly shut windows of Number Four, Privet Drive, as a soft glow in the small upper window gave the only light to the otherwise darkened street. The power had all gone out; neighbors might have assumed the light came from a candle, but the Dursleys' wizard nephew had indeed left his wand lit in plain view as he pored over a thick book, trying hard to concentrate despite the racket his bird was making.

"Be quiet, Hedwig," Harry admonished, casting an annoyed glance at the snowy owl, who ruffled her feathers in response and clamped her beak down on the bars of her cage.

Harry bit off the arm of his Chocolate Frog and returned to his book. It, along with a pile of others, was on loan from Alastor Moody, who thought Harry may find some valuable information on Horcruxes between their tattered covers. So far, he'd found nothing but a lot of information on murder and soul-splitting; he'd learned, for instance, that if one person orders a murder and another person carries it out, both souls are split.

With a yawn, he snapped the book shut and turned to stare out the window. The rain was coming even harder now. His trunk sat in the corner, packed and ready; tomorrow morning, the Advance Guard would be coming, ready to take him away from the Dursleys' for the last time. He'd be going to stay with Ron for a few days at the Burrow for Bill and Fleur's wedding, but as for after that, there was no telling where he'd wind up. Professor McGonagall had asked him to return to Hogwarts, but no, he had work to do-- there were still four Horcruxes to find, if Dumbledore had been right, and he intended to find them. Fatigue hit him like a Stunning Spell, and as his eyelids began to droop, he fancied that the thick raindrops were slowly turning into long, dark fingers, reaching toward him, reaching--

_"Expecto patronum!"_ he yelled abruptly, snapping into action. A great, silvery stag erupted from the tip of his wand, so solid that it busted through the thick glass of the window, and his bedroom flooded with rain. An army of Dementors rushed through the broken glass, turning the sheets of warm rain to hailstones. The hair on Harry's arms rose as he watched a host of the scabbed, deathly creatures feed off of his Patronus; but there were too many to fight. Menacingly, they circled him; he glared at them, still holding his wand, the stag still illuminating the room with its white light.

One of them dove, and Harry felt the unmistakable sensation of his soul being sucked from him. Suddenly, it was like he was back at the side of the lake with Sirius-- but then he remembered, Sirius was gone, as were his parents and Dumbledore, and when he closed his eyes, he could hear their voices screaming. "Mum," he whispered, muffled by the hollow vacuum surrounding him.

"Potter!" A flat, dull voice cut through the pain.

He opened his eyes. A faint flicker of light glowed from the crack under the door.

"Dudley," Harry whispered faintly.

"Potter, I don't know what you're doing in there, but--"

"Dudley..." Harry's wand dropped to the ground, and Hedwig screeched.

"If you can't get that bloody bird to shut up--"

"Dudley! Open the door!" The pain coursing through Harry's body paralyzed him from head to toe.

"I'll open it," Dudley groused, rolling up a sleeve, "and then I'll--"

Harry gasped as the door slammed open, right into his outstretched leg. The pain was enough to jolt him out of his reverie. _"Expecto patronum!" _he shouted again, shutting the door behind him, and shoved the dumbstruck Dudley down the hallway. "Go!"

Dudley waddled as fast as his fat feet would take him. "They're those-- those--"

"Dementors," Harry filled in, pushing him, as the ones that had escaped Harry's bedroom chased after them. "Go faster!"

"I can't!"

"Down the stairs!" Harry commanded. Quickly, he glanced behind him, and almost ran smack into his uncle.

"What the devil is all this racket?" he growled, drawing his robe around him. At that moment, the lights chose to come back on.

"Uncle Vernon, I--"

With a shriek, Petunia ducked behind her husband and pointed a shaking finger toward the hallway.

"They're-- _expecto patronum!_ Dementors, and-- open the cupboard!"

Petunia stood rooted to her spot, horrified.

"Uncle Vernon! The cupboard!"

"Daddy, they're the ones-- the things that got me--" Dudley ran to his father, but in response to this information, Vernon fled into the kitchen.

"Do something!" Petunia shrieked.

"I'm trying!" Harry said desperately, as one of the Dementors peeled away and flew at his cousin.

"Dudley!" shrieked Petunia, horrified. She ran toward the great black shape. "Stay away from my son!" she commanded, and thrust herself between Dudley and the Dementor.

Harry backed toward the cupboard under the stairs, feeling for the handle. He swung it open. _"Expecto patronum!" _Another stag galloped from the tip of his wand; the Dementor retreated from Petunia, coming to feed off the Patronus, and Harry forced them into the cupboard. _"Colloportus!" _he said, sealing the door, and with a sigh, he sank into a heap at the foot of the stairs.

"Boy," Vernon said warningly, coming from around the corner.

Harry glared up at his uncle. "I didn't bring them here. I didn't conjure them or anything. I don't know how they showed up in Little Whinging--"

"It's happened before!" he roared, as Petunia held Dudley in her arms. "Two years ago, when--"

"I know!"

Petunia wiped the sweat from her son's brow. "Popkin, speak to me," she said, a tremor in her voice.

Eyes wide, Dudley turned to his mother. "Th-they were... again..." He shuddered.

"Popkin?" Petunia shook him. "Duddykins?"

But Dudley would say no more.

A light bulb went off in Harry's head, and he pulled a Chocolate Frog from his jeans pocket. "Here," he said, pulling the cord and handing it to his aunt.

Petunia gave him a confused look.

"Eat," he told her. "You'll feel better."

Wordlessly, she broke off the head and popped it in her mouth, then handed the rest to Dudley, who looked at it as if it were broccoli.

"Look what they've done to my son," Vernon groused, turning several shades of scarlet as his fists clenched. "Look what's happened to him! It's your fault, it is--"

"I told you," Harry said warningly, "I didn't--"

"You and that freak sister of yours!" Vernon spat, turning on Petunia. "If only she'd have been killed before this one was born--" he indicated Harry-- "we'd have never had any of this trouble--"

"Don't you dare!" Petunia said shrilly, taking her hands from Dudley's shoulders and rising to face her husband. "Lily stepped in front of a-- a terrorist to save him," she sputtered, putting it into Muggle terms. "Be what she was, my sister was brave in a way you would never understand."

Vernon stood stock-still, his lips frozen in a thin line. He turned to Harry. "Those-- those--"

"Dementors?"

"Can they get out?"

"I sealed the door. By magic," he added, for emphasis.

Vernon opened his mouth, then decided against it, and marched out of the room.

Over by the table, Dudley gingerly bit off a hand of the frog, then wolfed the entire thing down. Harry fought back a smile.

"Feel better?" Petunia asked.

"A little," Dudley said with a sniff. "I think more chocolate would help."

"Let's get into the kitchen, then," Petunia suggested, helping Dudley to his feet. She ushered him into the kitchen.

Harry leaned his head against the newel post and closed his eyes. It was an odd feeling-- he almost wanted to hug his aunt.

Petunia turned. "Aren't you coming, Harry?"

He looked up in surprise.

An awkward smile made its way onto Petunia's lips. "We've got chocolate cake and ice cream." She turned and left the room.

Harry got to his feet and stuck his wand in his back pocket. For a moment, he thought he saw his mother's face in his mind's eye, beaming.

"Do you want vanilla or chocolate chip?" called Petunia.

He took a long, hard look at the cupboard under the stairs. Then-- "Vanilla," he replied, with a smile, following his aunt and cousin into the kitchen.

_"Siccus," _Harry said, poking at his drenched mattress with a sigh. "Bloody hell."

"Hey, Potter." Dudley's face appeared in the doorway.

"Yeah?"

He stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. "What's with the water?"

"Rained in."

Dudley gave him a blank stare.

"The Dementors-- I had to conjure a Patronus, and it turned out solid-- which is weird, really, because--" He broke off, noticing the disconcerted look on Dudley's face. "The window broke," he finished simply.

"They won't break out of the cupboard?" Dudley's pug face came alive with fright.

"No, no," Harry said quickly. "They're stuck in there."

"What is it-- what exactly--" Dudley shifted. "I want to know--"

"What they are?"

Dudley nodded. "They're evil, aren't they?"

"Well, yeah."

"Do they-- what do they do to people?"

"They suck people's souls out."

"Is that-- is that all they do?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "What memory do they make you see?"

Dudley looked up in surprise.

"I re-live my parents' murder," Harry sighed, dropping his hands in his lap. "I hear my mum screaming. Every time."

He sat down, careful to choose a dry spot. "It's pain," Dudley told him quietly. "Horrible pain. I can't see who's causing it, or-- or what's doing it. I just feel like punching them but-- I can't get up. There are lights in the background too-- weird green ones. And people hollering at the top of their lungs, but I can't tell what they're saying. I think the pain is too bad-- or maybe I'm too young."

Harry contemplated this. "Do you recognize any of the faces?"

"No," came the reply. "It's all a blur. I can't tell anyone apart or see their faces. Just the pain." He paused. "You mean to tell me-- this is a real memory, not just some sort of dream?"

"Yeah. They--" He racked his brains, trying desperately to remember everything Lupin had told him about Dementors in his third year, but his brain refused to work. "They feed off of your good memories and leave you with your very worst." _That will have to do_, he thought.

"So it really happened," Dudley said, almost to himself.

"Green lights... Dudley, are they flashes of light?"

"Yeah."

"And the people around you-- are they falling down? Dying? Like-- the light flashes, then someone falls?"

"Yeah..."

"And no one's touching you? You're not getting beat up, kicked... it's just pain?"

"Yeah."

"Death Eaters," Harry said under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothing."

He backed toward the wall. "Did you just say a spell?"

"I don't even have my wand in my hand, Dudley," Harry said with a roll of his eyes.

Dudley got to his feet. "I'm going to bed." He marched out of the room, water squishing between his toes as he went.

_"Siccus," _Harry tried again, flicking his wand at his pillows. _"Siccus!" _He felt his bed. "It'll have to do." He crawled under the slightly damp covers. "There's got to be a better spell. I'll have to ask Hermione when I see her tomorrow. 'Night, Hedwig."

Hedwig ruffled her feathers.

Harry awoke the next morning to fragmented rays of sun filtering through his patched-together window. With a yawn, he rolled out of bed and pulled on his clothes, throwing his pajamas in his trunk, and padded downstairs to the kitchen.

"Do you want bacon or sausage?" Petunia asked.

A yowl went up from the backyard, followed by a chorus of laughter. Harry supposed that Dudley and his gang were amusing themselves by roughing up the neighbors' cat.

"Harry?"

"What?"

Petunia held up a plate. "Bacon or sausage?"

"Oh-- uh, sausage. Please."

She filled a plate with sausage, eggs, and potatoes, and handed it to her dumbfounded nephew, who took it to the table.

"So," Vernon growled between bites of bacon, "when are you leaving?"

"Today," Harry replied shortly. "When the Advance Guard comes, and they should be here any minute."

"Good," he said curtly, and got up from the table.

"Hey, Dud, your cousin's in the kitchen," Harry heard Piers Polkiss say. "Let's go take those sausages he's eating and--"

"Nah," came Dudley's reply. "Let's leave him alone. C'mon. We can go to Mrs. Figg's and kick her cats around instead."

The laughter faded as Dudley's gang walked down the street.

Just then, the doorbell rang, and Harry began to wolf down his food as Petunia hurried to get the doorbell. She returned with Tonks, Alastor Moody, Remus Lupin, and Hestia Jones.

"Wotcher, Harry," Tonks greeted him cheerfully.

"Hey, Tonks."

"Ready to go, Harry?" Lupin put a hand on his shoulder.

Harry nodded. "Yeah. Hey-- I have a favor to ask you, though."

"Sure."

"There's a cupboard full of Dementors under the stairs..."

"I'll take care of 'em," Moody said. He turned to Petunia. "Where's this cupboard at?"

Petunia wiped her hands on her apron. "It's this way," she answered, gesturing for Moody to follow.

"You couldn't drive them off with a Patronus?" Lupin questioned.

Harry shook his head. "No-- and I conjured more than one, and they were strong ones, too. The first one was so solid that it broke right through my window."

Lupin exchanged a look with Tonks. "That's rare, Harry, a Patronus that solid."

"I know."

"So they're getting tougher. I wonder if these are a new breed, or--"

"Done," Moody growled, pushing back into the kitchen, Petunia trailing behind him.

"Well, I suppose we'd better get going," Lupin said. "You're going to want at least a few minutes to get ready for the wedding when we get back to the Burrow."

"One more day of happiness before it all starts," Tonks mused.

A grim smile crossed Harry's lips. "Well, then." He picked up Hedwig's cage and took a quick glance around him, looking at all the photos of Dudley, the annoying cuckoo clock, the televisions in every corner. It was bittersweet to be leaving-- but, Harry thought, mostly sweet. "Let's be off."

They made for the door.

"Harry?"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia?"

She paused, her expression merging worry, regret, and even love. "Be careful."

He nodded and walked out the door.


	3. Chapter 3

"Bloody hell," Ron whispered. "Thirty?"

"Well I didn't exactly have time to count, but it's a guess," Harry whispered back.

"I don't know how any Patronus could have--"

Mrs. Weasley turned in her seat. "Shh!"

"Sorry," they chorused immediately.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting in the second row of chairs in the Weasleys' garden, which had been transformed for Bill and Fleur's wedding. The rhododendrons had been replaced with big, fragrant lilac bushes; near the flowerbeds, a cairn of large stones glistened in the afternoon sunlight as water ran down their smooth surfaces and into a small pool. At the head of it all stood the altar-- a cedar lattice archway, wound with white tulle and purple clematis, and surrounded by magnificent wild apple trees, all bursting with beautiful white flowers.

"What I was trying to say," Ron continued, a little softer, "is that I don't know how any Patronus could have beat that many Dementors."

The string quartet began to play Pachelbel's "Canon," and George appeared at the end of the aisle with Fleur's best friend from her days at Beauxbatons, Amélie.

A smile graced Hermione's face and she deftly slipped her fingers into Ron's. Harry raised an eyebrow. "What's this?"

Hermione giggled. "You haven't told him?"

"It happened just this morning," Ron said, going pink. "Didn't really have time, you know--"

Harry only grinned.

"Anyway." Ron seemed eager to change the subject, now that he was the color of a ripe tomato. "What were you saying?"

"I've done it before," Harry replied. "Fighting off that many with one. But what gets me is that this one was more solid. It busted through my window."

Ron shrugged as Amélie and George took their places. "Who knows."

"Well, they've been breeding," Harry said. "Maybe they've been getting stronger. Maybe--" He broke off as Ginny passed by, leaving a bouquet of that unmistakable flower scent in her wake.

"Maybe you should follow your nose," Hermione remarked pointedly.

Harry sighed, but he barely even noticed Gabrielle and Charlie walk down the aisle, or Bill as he breezed past with an ear-to-ear grin, or even Fleur's grand entrance in an immaculate strapless white satin gown and Muriel's goblin-made tiara. All that existed was Ginny, and the way the pale gold silk of her dress clung to her silhouette; the contrast of her apple-green eyeshadow against her bright red tresses; the halo of light crowning her as the afternoon sunlight set itself like a waterfall over her hair. And before he knew it--

"You may now kiss the bride," said the officiant, and a ripple of cheers rang through the crowd.

"And Phlegm's now family after all," Hermione teased Ron, who responded by punching her playfully on the arm. Hermione flicked him back, and Ginny came to join them.

"Hullo," she greeted them, smiling, and turned immediately to Harry. "Mum told me about what happened at your aunt and uncle's. Are you alright?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah."

"I've never heard of a rock-solid Patronus before. What memory did you choose?"

Suddenly, he was very aware of the heat. He tugged at the collar of his dress robes. "I-- last year, after that final Quidditch match... the first time I kissed you."

Hermione, taking this as their cue to leave, tugged at Ron's hand, and they disappeared to join Charlie and his girlfriend.

"Harry." Her voice was gentle. "I know you think you can save me by pushing me away."

He sighed. "Ginny..."

"Just listen. I've thought about this a lot. And I know that it might be dangerous for us to be together, but-- just like I said before, I don't care." She reached for his hands. "Love saved your life before, you know," she reminded him, a smile on her lips. "Dumbledore himself told you it's the old magic that You-Know-Who overlooks. Maybe a little by your side is what you're going to need to keep going."

Harry smiled. "I'm not going to be able to stop you, am I?"

She thought about that for a second. "No."

"It's going to be dangerous, Gin. I don't know what's out there."

"I know."

"And you're going to have to stay by my side. All the time. If Voldemort sees that you're at the Burrow and I'm somewhere else, he'll put your whole family in danger to get you so he can get to me."

With a grin, Ginny planted a kiss on his cheek. "I think I can handle that."

He laughed, wrapping her up in a hug, and lifted his eyes to the sky. A bird streaked across the sun, and he did a double-take. "No," he whispered.

"What?"

"Fawkes."

Shielding her eyes from the sun, she gazed up into the sky. "I don't see anything."

"I could have sworn--"

A shrill, familiar voice cut into Harry's thoughts. "Potter. I'm glad you're here."

"Professor McGonagall." He brought his gaze back down to earth.

"Are you still planning on leaving school?"

"Yeah," he said firmly. "I am."

A look of disappointment washed over her face. "I wish you wouldn't."

"I just-- I feel like I have bigger things to get done before I can concentrate on my N.E.W.T.'s," Harry said. "You know?"

She patted him on the shoulder. "I know you've got a lot on your plate, Potter. But Hogwarts is where you're safe. You-Know-Who can't touch you there."

"Dumbledore's dead," Harry said plainly.

"It's not a matter of Albus..."

"Then what is it?"

Professor McGonagall paused, choosing her words carefully. "Hogwarts is sort of-- hallowed ground for you, Potter."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's one of those things--"

"Like old magic?" Harry interrupted. "Something Voldemort doesn't know about?"

"Something like that," Professor McGonagall replied.

Hungry for answers, Harry searched her eyes, but they were guarded. "You won't tell me any more, will you?"

She regarded him with a motherly gaze. "When you're ready..."

"I'll know?"

With something like regret in her eyes, she nodded. "Do consider coming back though, won't you, Potter? Nymphadora Tonks has agreed to take up the Transfiguration post, and Eva Wingfield-- I trust you've heard of her, she has quite the reputation as an Auror-- is coming to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Slughorn has also agreed to stay on to teach Potions-- I know he was fond of you."

Harry laughed. "If you're trying to convince me to stay with the prospect of more Slug Club meetings, Professor--"

In spite of herself, Professor McGonagall smiled. "Then forget I said anything about that."

"I'll try."

"And think about it, Potter. You need someplace safe to stay."

"She has a point, you know," Ginny voiced as Professor McGonagall disappeared back into the throng of guests. "Where else are you going to go?"

With a sigh, Harry sank into a chair. "Grimmauld Place," he told her.

"But you hate it!"

"Yeah, I know. But it's mine, after all, isn't it?"

"But--" Ginny sat down next to him. "Hogwarts is so much safer than Grimmauld Place."

"I can make it Unplottable," he protested. "We can cast the Fidelius Charm." He took her hands. "You could be my Secret-Keeper."

Ginny softened. "Harry."

"See, I'll be fine. I don't want to sit at Hogwarts in the middle of all my friends while Voldemort's hunting me--"

"'Arry!" came a squeal, and Gabrielle Delacour appeared, her gold dress swaying as she ran.

"Hi, Gabrielle," Harry replied idly, as Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Eet eez so good to see you," she purred. "'Ow have you been doing?"

"I'm alright."

"But of course-- so busy saving us all, no?" She giggled, and it wasn't the giggle of a nervous first-year, it was the passive sound of a veela putting on her charm.

Ginny snorted, and Gabrielle glared at her. "And what are you doing over here? I was not aware zat ze two of you were friends."

Harry hid a smile. "Oh. Actually, Ginny is my girlfriend."

It took a moment for Gabrielle to absorb this piece of information. "Oh," she sniffed. "I see. Well, zen." And she turned her nose in the air and huffed away.

"She learned something from her sister's example," Harry remarked.

"Snottiness, or seduction?" replied Ginny. She nodded toward a group of Fleur's full-blooded veela cousins, all of whom were busy charming Ron. "I think there are too many of them here today." She shook her head, watching a fully-flushed Hermione drag him away with the assistance of Mrs. Weasley. "So. When are we leaving?"

"Tonight," Harry told her.

"Ron and Hermione are coming?"

"No," Harry said slowly. "I'm not telling them." He regarded her shocked face. "I might not be able to stop you, Gin, but I can stop them."

She said nothing.

Later that night, when everyone's stomachs were full with food and butterbeer and they were fast asleep in their beds, Ginny tiptoed quietly through the house, careful not to make a noise. She'd left a note for her parents on the kitchen table, praying that when she saw her mother next, she wouldn't be dead where she stood. Slowly she opened the back door, latched it carefully, and stole across the gardens, out behind the huge flowering apple trees.

"Ginny," Harry greeted her, wrapped her in his arms, and gave her a kiss. She giggled. "That felt good," he said, smiling. "Let me do it again."

"Spare me," came Ron's voice, shrugging off the Invisibility Cloak. "The last thing I want to see is my sister and my best friend snogging for an hour."

"Ron! Hermione! What are you guys doing here?" He looked down at Ginny, who was still in his arms. "I gave you the cloak so you could sneak out, not so they could follow you."

She grinned up at him. "You think I was going to let you leave them behind?"

"We're coming with you, mate," Ron told him flatly. "Who needs a last year at Hogwarts, anyway?"

"Don't let your mother hear that," Harry said laughingly.

Hermione grinned. "Don't worry, I'll make sure he goes back."

"That's right. I have another mother now."

With a roll of her eyes, Hermione climbed onto her broomstick. "Best get going then?" she said sensibly.

Harry gazed around himself. A stout little gnome stood outlined in the moonlight, happily munching on a very fat worm.

"Harry?" Hermione pressed.

An oddly serene feeling passed over him. "Follow me," he said, mounting his new Supernova, and shot off into the night sky.


	4. Chapter 4

It had been months since that cold spring night at Hogwarts, and Draco Malfoy was still shut up in a rickety little shack in Hogsmeade. Snape had indeed returned, but not to take him away. It was too volatile, he had said, and when Draco had insisted he could take care of himself, Snape had simply laughed.

With a sigh, Draco wandered into the kitchen. He was hungry, and normally there were house-elves or servants to take care of this sort of thing, but in such a shack there was no proper staff. _No proper food, either,_ he thought grudgingly, as he sat down with a loaf of cornbread and a pat of butter.

A rat scurried across the table, and Draco drew his wand. _"Crucio," _he said happily, and watched the little gray thing writhe in pain as he polished off his cornbread. _I have to suffer,_ he thought-- _something else may as well suffer with me, right?_ But the pained squeaking grew to be too much. _"Finite incantatem,"_ he said lazily, then picked it up by its pink tail and threw it out the window. He heard it scurry away through the dead leaves and dry grass.

At times like these, Draco thought of owling Snape with rude messages, and making him promise to at least bring a good supply of firewhisky if he was going to keep him shut up in a house that even the Weasleys would consider a shack. Then he wondered if he just thought things like that to make himself forget about what he'd actually done. Then he'd begin to wonder how much of the whole incident was his fault, and how many kids Greyback had bitten-- he'd only seen a couple copies of the Daily Prophet since that night-- and had any of his friends had gotten in the way? After that, weird questions would creep into his mind, questions he'd never asked before. What if I'm actually sorry for what happened to Dumbledore? And then he'd throw something fragile against the wall and curse Snape again for leaving him there, because really, that was the problem with this place. It was filthy and tiny and very unbecoming a Malfoy, but the worst part was that it provided way too much time to think.

He rose from the table, stepping over the teacup he just smashed on the floor, and went to pull another loaf of cornbread from the cupboard.

"Bloody hell," he swore, grabbing his wrist. "What--"

He held it up to his face-- the Dark Mark was burning.

"What do I do," he said out loud. "Snape said to stay--" He clutched his wrist again. _There's no choice._

Draco landed hard on the cold ground, almost getting the wind knocked out of him. Catching his breath, he peered around. Dementors hovered in the distance; wispy fog encircled the small clearing in which he sat, and he shivered in the cold. Just as he began to wonder if he was alone, a dark, familiar figure stepped out of the fog.

"Master," Draco gasped, bowing low at Voldemort's feet.

"Get up," he said.

Draco obeyed, trembling from head to toe, and watched as his master lazily drew his wand forward. Two cloaked figures emerged from the white haze.

"Your family," Voldemort breathed, after a long silence, "has been kind enough to join us this evening."

"Father," Draco said softly. "Mum. I--"

"Silence!" Voldemort bellowed. He strode up to Draco, his red eyes blazing into Draco's icy blue ones, breathing hard. "You have failed me."

"But Dumbledore is dead," Draco protested, his voice shaking with every syllable.

"Dumbledore is dead because of Severus Snape," Voldemort said with disdain. "And he did what he did..." A sadistic smile crossed his disfigured face as he brought Narcissa to her knees. "He did what he did, the Unbreakable Vow, his treachery against me, all of it-- because of his soft spot for your dear mother."

Tears streamed silently down Narcissa's pale, pointed face as she stared into the hardened face of her husband. "Lucius..."

He turned from her.

"I must admit though, Draco," Voldemort continued placidly, as Narcissa wept uncontrollably, "it was because of you that Severus was able to kill him. Finding a way to get my Death Eaters into the school-- impressive. One might say that you-- half-succeeded in your task." While he spoke, he caressed his wand.

Lucius afforded his son a half-smile of approval.

"You knew the consequences of failure, Draco."

Draco nodded, his heart pounding.

"Luckily for your father, you only half-failed. Not so luckily, I think, for your mother."

"No!" Draco yelled, raising his wand.

_"Expelliarmus!" _came a shout from the shadows, and Peter Pettigrew appeared, his wand out. _"Incarcerous!"_

Laughing, Voldemort approached Narcissa, who knelt quietly in the grass, still weeping quietly, staring at the ground. "It's too bad, really," he told her, bending down to address her. "You could have lived, had your son the fortitude to serve his master. I hear he had Dumbledore at his mercy, and lowered his wand."

Draco's eyes widened.

"There was no need for her to die!" Voldemort spat, turning back to Draco with truth in his voice that cut like ice.

A silent tear ran down Draco's cheek as he watched his mother, not meeting his eyes, accepting her fate. "I'm sorry," he choked out.

Narcissa lifted her head and gazed at her son. Her face, wet with tears, was serene. "I'm glad," she managed to say through her sniffles, "that you have not become a murderer--"

_"Avada Kedavra!" _hollered Voldemort, and a jet of green light hit Narcissa square in the chest, silencing her. She fell, dead, to the ground.

"No!" cried Draco. "No!" He struggled to free himself from his ropes, struggled to reach his wand. "No!"

Lucius let out an apathetic sigh. "Well, now that's done with," he said nonchalantly, joining Pettigrew. "Pick up my son's wand, will you?" He strode over to where Draco stood, thrashing in his bounds. "Oh, stop it." It was as if he were reprimanding a young child. "You're just going to make it worse. Now come along-- we have work to do. _Finite incantatem_." He passed Draco's wand back to him.

Draco stood there, seething, and curled his fingers around the hard hawthorn of his wand. There were a thousand curses that came to mind, each one worse than the next. His father had just stood there-- just stood there, watched her die, and not shed a single tear.

"Are you just going to leave her there?" he whispered.

Lucius stared down at his son. "The crows will take care of her," he replied stiffly.

"Get going," said a thin voice from behind him, as Voldemort approached.

Automatically, Draco's feet began to move. Snape's voice echoed inside his head_... if the Dark Lord finds you, it will be only a matter of time before you are dead._

It was hard to tell, but Draco thought he saw a tall, black, bat-like shape standing in the distance-- one moment it was there, just beyond the trees; the next it was gone, having flitted away into the cold, unforgiving night. Was he still being watched over--?

"One second, please, Father," Draco said quietly, lowering his eyes. "I just-- I just want to say goodbye." Without waiting for a response, he ran back to his mother's side, taking deep breaths. _Calm down, Draco._

"Touching," Voldemort said derisively to Lucius.

"He was always too spoiled," Lucius replied, by way of explanation.

Draco knelt, his hands shaking, and put one arm around his mother's lifeless form. He took one last look at his father's cold glare, at Voldemort's contorted face, and closed his eyes.

_Determination. Deliberation. Destination._

"Truthfully, I didn't think you'd come back here," said Snape, pushing his chair back from the kitchen table, and Draco noticed his eyes were wet.

Draco carefully brushed pieces of broken teacup from his mother's hair. "I wish I wouldn't have smashed that now."

"Too late to worry about such trifles." Snape knelt to help him. "What are you going to do now?"

"Didn't think about that," he admitted. "I can't go home. You're not going to let me come with you. I can't go back to Hogwarts, and I'm certainly not going to stay in this bloody hole."

"Well, I certainly can't go back to Hogwarts. I think, however, that Professor McGonagall may be a bit more forgiving in your case."

A sneer crossed Draco's face. "Potter will have given her the whole bloody story," he muttered. "No matter that I couldn't go through with it. I'll be just as guilty as you--"

Draco looked up suddenly to see Snape watching him with interest, and turned away. "Doesn't matter," he repeated. "It's hopeless for me to go back there. I might as well walk myself right up to Azkaban."

"Dumbledore offered you and your family the protection of the Order of the Phoenix, didn't he?"

Draco nodded.

"He said he would. I told Narcissa-- well, it doesn't matter." He laid a hand on her face. "It wouldn't have had to end like this."

Something churned in Draco's stomach, but he pushed it aside. "So whose side are you really on, anyway?"

"Whose side are _you_ on?"

Draco thought about this. "My own side."

"For some of us, that's the only road to choose."

He stood. "Will you..." His voice caught in his throat and he nodded toward his mother's body; he couldn't force himself to say the words.

Snape nodded. "I'll take care of everything."

With a _crack_, Draco was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

A canopy of stars and wispy clouds graced the sky as the foursome came to the outskirts of a tiny Muggle village. The street was black, save for one window of one house, where a girl sat reading a book. A cat lay curled in her lap.

"Merlin's beard," Hermione said softly, gazing around herself. "So this is it?"

Harry stood rooted to his spot, illuminated by the glow of the streetlamp over the old wooden sign that proclaimed "Godric's Hollow."

"Yeah," he said tonelessly. "This is it." He shuffled forward, coating his trainers with dirt, his eyes holding each building like fragile heirlooms.

"So," Ron spoke up, breaking the awkward silence as they made their way down the empty main road, "are we just going to stay at the inn tonight and continue in the morning?" He nodded at a tall building with a facade of crumbling brick and red painted letters over the door. "I mean--"

But Harry kept going. "I'm going to the cemetery," he told them. "I just-- I need to visit Mum and Dad right now."

Ron exchanged a glance with Hermione, who warned him with a single arch of her eyebrow not to argue, and fell in step. "Oh, look," she said brightly, pointing into a dimly lit yard. "Look at those tea roses."

"That's--" Harry paused. "That house. I remember seeing it-- that picture of Mum, this was the house in the background!" Without thinking, he swung the gate open and marched up the path.

"Are you mad?" hissed Hermione. "It's the middle of the night!"

One foot on the front step, Harry turned. "Hermione, I have to. Look-- when I stepped into this town, it was like-- it was like taking Felix Felicis, in a way. It's definitely not the same feel-good sensation, but it's a guiding force. Something's telling me--"

"That you need to talk to whoever lives here?" Harry turned in surprise to see a square-shouldered woman smiling at him, dressed in witch's robes. Her hair, jet-black, fell in a cascade of loose curls.

"That's exactly it," Harry said, quite calmly. "My name's Harry Potter."

"I thought you'd come here," the woman said, still smiling. She had high cheekbones, Harry noticed, and her eyes twinkled. "And I know your name. If not for the scar--"

"Let me guess. My mother's eyes?"

The woman opened her door wide. "Won't you all come in?"

Harry crossed the threshold, closely followed by Ginny, who was uncertain about this entire situation. She scanned the house carefully, scrutinizing the polished mirrors, the glossy furniture, the immaculate ash-gray carpet. A white cat nuzzled against her ankle, but she nudged it away as they entered a sitting-room.

"Tea? You must have had a long journey."

"I'm fine, thanks," Harry said.

"Mead? Butterbeer? Anything?"

Ginny smiled. "We're fine."

"Well," the witch began, pouring herself a glass of mead and settling down into a green wingback chair, "I suppose I ought to introduce myself. My name is Eva Wingfield. I--"

"You're the one who's going to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts this year," Harry said, remembering.

"Right you are, Harry."

"Professor McGonagall just told me."

She smiled and took a sip of mead.

"So..." Harry drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. "I don't know why I'm here, to be honest with you. Do you?"

Thoughtfully, Eva held her glass in her hand. "Harry," she began with a wistful look in her eyes, "I wish I had all the answers for you. I really do." She sighed. "Your mother and I were friends, long ago. We were at Hogwarts together. I was two years below her, but she took me under her wing-- I wanted to be an Auror, you see, but I was terrible at Potions."

Harry grinned. "Professor Slughorn told me that Mum was brilliant at Potions."

"She was," Eva continued, "and she tutored me until I was good enough to scrape an "O" on my O.W.L.'s. We stayed friends while we worked at the Ministry together--"

"My mum was an Auror?" Harry burst out.

Eva shook her head. "She worked in the Department of Mysteries. She was an Unspeakable."

Thoughts of the night in the Ministry flooded Harry's brain. "Professor Wingfield-- d'you think my mum-- I mean, I've always seen the other ones, so I don't know-- but do you think she might have come back as a ghost?" As soon as the words came out, he realized how crazy he sounded. "I mean-- it's just that sometimes it feels like I'm being told what to do. Or showed. And I can't explain it. I just thought maybe--" He sighed.

Eva Wingfield smiled sadly at Harry. "I know," she said slowly, "that you desperately want a connection to your family. I wish Lily could be here, pale and transparent, but still very much Lily, to explain all that she's left for you. But the fact is, Harry, your mother was not afraid of death. Stepping in front of Voldemort's killing curse proved that."

"You're not afraid to say his name either," Harry noted.

"Fear of a name--"

"Increases fear of the thing itself."

"Dumbledore was a very smart man." Her eyes were soft.

"Yes he was."

"You see, people who are afraid of death are the ones who become ghosts. You always hear Muggles saying that it's because they have some job to do on Earth, or they have some message to relay-- that's codswallop. It's fear that holds them back from crossing the threshold. They choose to stay here as an imprint of themselves. Lily tried to explain it fully once. She said that when you die, you have a choice-- you can either be brave and take the exit door out of this world, or succumb to your fear and remain."

"So the Bloody Baron was afraid of death," Ginny mused. "That seems odd to me."

"Everyone has their own reasons," Eva told her. "Perhaps he was just afraid that he wouldn't be able to terrify anyone once he crossed the threshold." She winked at Ginny. "Anyway," she continued, "when your parents went into hiding, I followed them here. Lily tried to stop me-- she said she didn't want to put me in danger-- but I was an Auror, and it was my job to fight people like the Death Eaters. I thought that if I was nearby, I might be able to save her. Help her, at least. But--" She broke off, twisting her hands in her lap, and went to the window. "It's almost dawn," she said abruptly, pushing open white organza curtains. She turned. "Harry, would you like to see where your parents' cottage stood?"

"How can you show me that?" he said incredulously. "I thought only the Secret-Keeper could--"

Eva drew herself up. "I was your mother's Secret-Keeper."

"But that's impossible!" exclaimed Hermione. "The whole point of the Fidelius Charm-- the way it works--"

"Peter Pettigrew was the Secret-Keeper for your parents," Eva explained. "I was Secret-Keeper for Lily alone."

"So," Ron mused, "Harry's dad could have had a separate Secret-Keeper, and even Harry himself?"

Eva nodded.

Harry's brain was in overdrive. "I need to see it," he decided, feeling that impulse again. "Will you bring me?"

She nodded again. "Let's go," she said, and led them out the door.

"Aren't you afraid someone will see you in your robes?" asked Ron tentatively.

Eva smiled. "The people in this town already think I'm-- well, eccentric, to put it nicely." She paused. "Especially after that visit from Mad-Eye."

They all laughed.

"So why did my mum want a second Secret-Keeper?" Harry wondered out loud, after a moment of silence.

"She never told me," Eva confessed. "But I can only guess that she didn't fully trust Peter. The only reason why she would have needed me to be her Secret-Keeper is if she somehow believed that Peter was going to betray them."

"I don't understand. Why would my mother agree to Pettigrew if she didn't trust him?"

Eva shrugged. "She trusted your father, and she trusted Sirius, and maybe that was enough for her to doubt her vision."

"Vision?" Harry suddenly had this wild image of his mother wrapped in Trelawney's shawls, entranced by a crystal ball. He shook his head, trying to clear it.

"Your mother had many talents, kindness being only one of them," Eva said quietly. "She may not have been a Seer in the true sense of the word, but she had an uncanny knack for sensing the future." She stopped. "Here we are."

Harry gawked. He hadn't expected this. Set between two bright green, neatly trimmed lawns was an expanse of black, charred earth. The cottage his parents had lived in lay in pieces; bits of furniture stuck out from the wreckage like broken bones, and curtains and clothes lay tangled like torn flesh. Almost without volition, he stepped off the road and crossed over onto the scorched ground.

"Harry?" Ginny cautiously tiptoed after him.

He knelt down at the side of the wreckage and tugged at a piece of cherrywood. "Look, Gin," he whispered. "It's a piece of my old crib."

Ginny put a hand on his arm as he sifted through the mess.

"My mom's jewelry box," he said to himself, as Ginny rose to join Eva, Hermione, and Ron.

"How is it that this place has never been touched?" Ron wanted to know.

"Well, it's Unplottable, of course, and the Muggles around here can't see it. As for the state of it, there were plenty of us who wanted to clean it up," Eva told him, "but Dumbledore thought we ought to leave it just the way it was. And Dumbledore always had good reason for everything he did, so I never asked questions."

"Omnipotent Dumbledore," Ginny remarked, as Harry smoothed out a set of smart black dress robes across his lap.

"Hey, mate." Ron knelt at his best friend's side. "You okay?"

Harry nodded, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to flow. "Dad's dress robes," he pronounced. "I found a journal, too," he said, "but I don't know whether I should--"

"Take it. There might be something useful," Ron advised. Then, with a half-smile-- "Like a detailed list of You-Know-Who's Horcruxes and their locations."

"If only it could be that easy." Harry let out a long sigh.

"Every time I walk by here," Eva said shakily, "I wish I could just blot it out." She dabbed at her eyes with the hem of her sleeve. "I remember it just like it was yesterday-- you were so tiny, so afraid, crying like... well, you had good reason to cry like you were crying."

Harry turned in surprise.

"I got here just as Hagrid did," she told him, "and thank heavens he was here, because I don't know how I could have dug you out of that rubble. Then Sirius came. He-- he wanted to take you with him, but Hagrid-- Dumbledore said you were to go live with your aunt and uncle."

"I could have grown up with Sirius?" Harry bristled.

"Well Sirius left then, and if we would have known what was going to happen-- you know, with Peter-- but, well, that was that. Hagrid left you with me for awhile, while he-- while he took your parents from the wreckage. I remember you--" She placed both hands on Harry's face. "I'd seen you many times before, but you never looked more like Lily than at that moment. If anyone else had been asked to name the most obvious change, they would have talked about the scar on your forehead, but me-- I would have said your eyes."

Quietly, Harry let that sink in while he concentrated on rolling up his father's dress robes and stowed them, along with the journal, carefully in his bag. He slung it over his shoulder, stepped back onto the road, and began shuffling away.

Ginny ran after him. "Harry? Are you okay?"

"No, Gin. I'm not okay."

"Where are you--"

"I'm going to the cemetery," he told her, and stopped. "I need to go alone. It's nothing personal. I just--"

Ginny gave him a half-smile. "It's okay," she assured him. "I understand. We won't be far behind, okay?"

He nodded, gave her hand a quick squeeze, and walked off.

"Why did you let him go?" Hermione was outraged.

"He needs some time," Ginny said defensively. "Just leave him be."

They watched him disappear around a corner, then slowly began ambling down the street. The sun had made its way over the horizon, and it filtered through the canopy of leaves that sprayed from the tall maple trees shadowing the path.

"It's beautiful here," Hermione said conversationally, shading her eyes to gaze up at the foliage.

"Ever since that October night," Eva replied, "Godric's Hollow has been a very peaceful place."

At that moment, red sparks appeared in the sky.

"Look!" cried a pigtailed Muggle child in a nearby yard, pulling on the hem of her mother's skirt. "Fireworks!"

Hermione exchanged a look with Ron. "Harry," she whispered.

"Follow me," Eva ordered. She led them down the trail, past bright green lawns and perfectly kept flowerbeds, and through the forbidding wrought-iron gates of an old, heavily-wooded cemetery.

_"Expelliarmus!"_ came a cry from behind a cluster of trees, and a wand went flying.

A shrill, crazed voice sounded in reply. _"Accio!"_

Ginny burst into the clearing, wand raised. _"Petrificus totalus!"_

Bellatrix dodged Ginny's curse, grinning maniacally back at Harry. "You've brought your little friends," she crowed. "How cute."

"We've grown up," called Ron, "or have you forgotten?"

"And it's not only the little ones," said Eva thickly, stepping around the corner.

Bellatrix's eyes glittered. "Wingfield."

"Lestrange."

"You've been absent for some time."

"And I hear you did quite the stint in Azkaban."

Bellatrix seethed. "We all figured the Dark Lord had killed you right along with the Potters, but no, you weren't even there... some protection you offer..."

"And you've come to Godric's Hollow after Harry as a pathetic attempt to regain favor with Voldemort, is that it?"

The two women glared at each other.

_"Stupefy!" _yelled Eva.

_"Crucio!"_ Bellatrix shrieked.

Two jets of light shot through the air at the same time; Bellatrix slammed into an ancient oak tree as Eva collapsed to the ground in pain.

_"Finite incantatem!" _Hermione said immediately, kneeling to help her up.

Eva blinked dazedly at Hermione and grabbed for her wand. "She won't be alone," she began, when a squeaky voice verified her suspicions.

_"Ennervate!"_

Harry and Eva turned at once to see Peter Pettigrew at Bellatrix's side. At the sight of Eva, he shrank back. "Mistress," he said between chattering teeth, _"her..."_

Eva rose and stood, straight-backed, so that she seemed to command the attention of every tree and breathing thing and blade of grass in sight. "For a long time," she began, wand in hand, "I have thought about which curse I would use first if I ever saw you again. For years it was just fantasy. I thought Sirius had killed you, and I envied him. Then Minerva McGonagall told me that Sirius was innocent and you were alive and fantasy turned to planning, and now here we are, Peter, here we are and still I haven't decided."

"I can think of a few," muttered Harry.

Hungry for battle, Bellatrix turned on him. "Why don't you try them on me, then?"

_"Crucio!"_ bellowed Harry without a second thought.

Bellatrix hit the ground, but didn't stay there for long. "Haven't you learned, boy?" she crowed.

_"Expelliarmus!"_ chorused Ron and Hermione, and Bellatrix ducked. The spells ricocheted off a headstone, which shattered into pieces.

"Harry has a good idea, but you deserve much worse than torture," Eva growled, leering at Pettigrew. "You deserve worse than death, Peter..."

Fingers of sunlight reached down into the graveyard, illuminating Bellatrix's frazzled hair and mad expression. She raised her wand over her head. _"Avada..."_

_"Stupefy!"_ cried Ginny, and blasted Bellatrix into a tall marble angel statue.

Pettigrew looked from Eva to Bellatrix and raised his wand. _"Ennervate," _he said meekly.

_"Crucio!"_ Eva roared, and Pettigrew fell to the ground in a heap, screeching. As he writhed in pain, her eyes widened hungrily. Hermione turned away in disgust.

"Can't handle it, doll?" taunted Bellatrix.

Harry felt the echoes of Eva's cold hatred fill his heart, and he recoiled. _"Avada Kedavra!"_ he screamed.

"Harry!" Hermione was horrorstruck.

But Bellatrix dodged the jet of green light, which split a tree branch like a bolt of lightning. "Still here!" she sang.

Eva's concentration broke, and she turned from Peter. "Harry! What--"

Bellatrix's eyes glowed like uncontrollable flame. "He's begun to feel it," she said wildly.

"Get out of here," Eva told Harry.

"But I--"

"Now!" she commanded, firing a Stunning Spell at Bellatrix, who dodged it.

With a flick of his wrist, Ron disarmed Pettigrew and turned to Harry. "Where to?"

Harry thought fast. "Grimmauld Place," he replied. "Apparate!"


	6. Chapter 6

"I despise this place," Harry sighed, flopping melancholically onto a couch in the drawing-room.

The portrait of Mrs. Black could be heard even from a floor away. "FILTHY BLOOD TRAITORS IN MY HOUSE, DIRTY BRATS..."

Harry stamped on the floor. _"Shut up!"_

"At least you got to do what you set out to do," Ginny reasoned, settling down next to Harry.

He shook his head. "They weren't there," he muttered.

"What?"

"They weren't there. My parents-- they weren't buried in that cemetery. Their headstones were there, but they weren't."

"How do you know?"

"I just do. I could tell. Something about it-- it was all wrong."

"Well, if they weren't buried at Godric's Hollow-- I mean, who would know?"

Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out the silver locket he and Dumbledore had retrieved from the cave last year. "Dumbledore would know," he sighed, curling his fingers around the cold metal. "But he's gone. And thanks to R.A.B., he's gone for nothing."

Hermione entered the room and handed him one of the butterbeers she was carrying. "Don't blame R.A.B.," she counseled.

"Yeah," Ron agreed, taking a swig off of his. "Blame Malfoy and Snape."

"If I ever get my hands on that greasy-haired git--" Harry gritted his teeth.

"I can't believe Sirius was related to the Malfoys," Hermione mused, studying the Black family tapestry.

"No, he's not," Harry said sourly. "His mother disowned him, remember? Blasted him right off the tree, because he wouldn't give in to the pure-blood mania. But as for his perfect little brother... I'm surprised she didn't raise a statue of him for giving his life as a Death Eater..."

"I thought Sirius said Voldemort killed him?" Ginny wondered out loud.

Harry shrugged. "What's the difference?"

But Hermione's face was screwed up, processing all this information. "What if," she said slowly, "Regulus _wasn't_ the perfect Death Eater son? What if he _betrayed _Voldemort?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"Voldemort killed Regulus... the locket, Harry. R.A.B. You don't think..."

"Regulus Black?" He sat up straight.

She turned back and scanned the tapestry. "Look... his grandfather was named Arcturus. If he was named for his grandfather... Regulus Arcturus Black. It's quite possible."

"Then... I wonder if he did destroy it?" Ginny raised an eyebrow.

Hermione furrowed her brow. "What did the note say again? Didn't R.A.B. know he was going to die?"

_"I know I will be dead long before you read this,_" Harry quoted from memory. "That's what it said."

"Maybe he knew Voldemort would find out what he was doing and come after him."

Harry thought about this. "D'you think he had time to destroy it, then?"

Hermione shrugged. "If not..."

"Then it's hidden again." With a sigh, he sank back into the cushions.

"Or You-Know-Who has it," Ron interjected.

"Even better, then," Harry said listlessly, and Ginny shot Ron a dirty look.

Just then, the front door creaked open. Ron and Harry stared at each other, wide-eyed, as feet shuffled across the hardwood floors and the latch clicked shut.

"Bloody hell," squeaked Ron, gulping. "It's Bellatrix and Pettigrew... they must've killed Professor Wingfield, and now..."

A smile broke across Hermione's face. "Ron," she laughed, as a murmur of voices rippled through the house, "it's your mother."

His eyes grew wide. "Bloody hell. Now I _really_ don't want to go down there." He turned to his sister. "She's going to murder us, Gin."

She shrugged. "We're big kids, we can take care of ourselves," came her nonchalant response, and she sprang off the couch and headed for the stairs.

"Mental, that one," Ron muttered, and followed her.

"You two!" Mrs. Weasley's hands flew to her hips. "Sneaking off in the middle of the night like that without saying goodbye... you could have died and I wouldn't have seen you! Don't you ever do that to me again!"

Harry stood back, amused. It was like watching a live Howler.

"Mum, we had to go with Harry, and we knew you wouldn't let us go if you knew," Ginny explained. "I left a note--"

"I read it," Mrs. Weasley replied, her head wagging wildly, "and you never mentioned where you were going-- what you were doing-- for all I knew, Ginevra Weasley, you were going off with Harry to--"

_"Mum,"_ Ginny said exasperatedly.

"We went to Godric's Hollow," Harry told her, now a very bright shade of scarlet.

"Well why didn't you tell us?" Mrs. Weasley threw her hands in the air. "We could have sent Aurors-- members of the Order, at least--"

"I don't want a crowd of protectors," Harry said. "That's why I never told anyone." He paused. "Besides that, we ran into an Auror anyway."

"Who?"

"Eva Wingfield," Harry replied.

Mrs. Weasley appeared confused for a moment.

"Minerva's convinced her to teach at Hogwarts," said Mr. Weasley, and a look of understanding washed over his wife's face.

"So she's back then," Mrs. Weasley said. "That's good news."

"Back?" Harry arched an eyebrow.

"At any rate," she continued, as if he hadn't spoken, "I'm just glad you're safe."

"Me too," Ron agreed. "After being attacked by my rat. Again."

"Peter Pettigrew attacked you?" Mr. Weasley looked from his son to Harry.

"Yeah. And Bellatrix Lestrange, too." He told them the story.

"Merlin's beard." Arthur let out a low whistle. "So Death Eaters are able to attack Harry at Godric's Hollow..."

Mrs. Weasley shot a silencing scowl at her husband, and he closed his mouth. "Well," she said brightly, "the Order'll be coming shortly. We've got a meeting today."

"Just as well," Hermione said with a yawn. "I could do with some sleep."

At that, Harry suddenly realized how tired he was. "Yeah," he agreed, "me too. We haven't slept at all."

"That's settled, then. Ron and Harry, you take that room on the second floor again-- Ginny and Hermione, you know where yours is. You all can take a nice nap, and I'll wake you up when it's time for dinner. Off with you, then!"

Deciding it would be best not to argue with Mrs. Weasley, Harry led the group up the stairs.

"Blimey," Ron exhaled, "got lucky there."

"Told you," Ginny said. "Besides, you know Mum wouldn't commit murder. She couldn't shout at us if she got thrown in Azkaban, and you know how she'd miss that."

Harry laughed and laid a kiss on the top of her head. "Sweet dreams," he said as they reached the landing, and the girls split off in a different direction.

"Home sweet home," quipped Ron as they entered their quarters and kicked off their shoes.

Harry crawled under the covers and shut his eyes. He could hear Ron's voice saying something, but the words sounded like Mermish as he slipped into dreams.

"Get up!" Hermione bounced on the side of Ron's bed. "C'mon!"

"Bloody hell, woman," groused Ron, shielding his face. "Could you be a little more gentle?"

"Mmrph," Harry groaned, emerging from his nest of blankets. "We've only been sleeping a couple minutes... what d'you want?"

Ginny giggled. "You've been sleeping for over three hours. And as for gentle--" she turned to her brother-- "we tried. Neither one of you would budge."

"So I take it... it's dinnertime?" Ron yawned.

"Your mom's famous stew," Hermione replied.

Harry swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Now that's reason to get up."

"I don't know why you're always raving about that stew," Ron said as they made their way downstairs.

"Try eating sticks of celery and pear halves for weeks, then tell me about it."

"Your cousin's still on his diet, then?" asked Hermione.

Harry nodded. "Fat lot of good it does though, especially since Aunt Petunia keeps caving in to the great lump."

They all laughed, pushing their way into the kitchen.

"Morning, ickle Ronniekins," teased George at once, pinching his kid brother's cheeks.

Hermione laughed.

"Oh, don't encourage it," groaned Ron.

"Better listen to him," Fred advised.

"Wouldn't want a domestic dispute now, would we?" George tousled Hermione's hair, and she shot him a dirty look.

"And Harry, you dog!" Fred set a stack of bowls on the table and put an arm around him. "Maybe with dating you, our sister won't feel the need to snog half of Hogwarts..."

"I have not," Ginny said indignantly, "snogged half of Hogwarts."

Ron sniggered.

"Alright, now," said Mrs. Weasley warningly, setting a cauldron of stew on the table. "Fred, would you get the bread, please?"

"Get the bread, Fred," George echoed in a singsong voice, ducking as Fred chucked a carrot at him.

"Wotcher, Harry," came Tonks' familiar greeting, and Harry turned to see her grinning at him. "Haven't seen you in ages."

He laughed. "If you say so, Tonks."

Lupin swept in and pulled up a chair. "Looks delicious, Molly." He gestured for Tonks to sit next to him, and she did.

Harry slid in to a seat between Ron and Ginny on the opposite side of the table and ladled himself a bowl of stew as the table filled in. "I don't think there are going to be enough bowls," he noted.

"Oh, Mundungus," Molly said. "I didn't think you were staying?"

"Can't turn down that stew o' yours, Molly, y'know that." He gave her a wink.

Despite herself, Mrs. Weasley allowed herself a small smile. "Ron, would you mind getting us some more bowls? I think there are some in that cupboard there."

"Sure, Mum." He rose to his feet and opened the door. "Ugh... I don't think you want anything from in here."

Mrs. Weasley wrinkled her nose. "Oh, that's Kreacher's little nest." She reached in and picked up a shining object. "Look at this. It's one of the silver goblets Sirius wanted out of here." She glanced at Harry.

Harry suddenly felt his veins run cold. "Throw it away," he demanded immediately.

Mundungus' eyes lit up at once. "Oh, but that's goblin-wrought silver, it is..."

"Throw it away," he repeated firmly, and shoveled a spoonful of stew into his mouth. "That bloody house-elf probably stole half the stuff Sirius wanted to get rid of... all those wretched disgusting family heirlooms..." In his mind, he could hear the portrait of Walburga screeching.

"So," said Hermione brightly, after a moment of uncomfortable silence in which Ron opened another cupboard and found a stack of bowls, "I heard you're coming to teach at Hogwarts, Tonks."

Tonks beamed. "Sure am." She turned to Lupin. "Remus knew that they'd need a new Transfiguration teacher, and he spoke to Professor McGonagall-- she talked to me about it the very next day."

"Wicked," Ron said. "I can't wait."

She blushed and returned to her stew.

"I hear," Lupin began, "that you already met your other new teacher?"

"Yeah," Ginny told him, and paused. "I hope she's okay."

"Hestia went to check on her," Lupin reassured her.

Harry looked up. "Is she a member of the Order of the Phoenix then? I mean-- I've never seen her here, or anything."

Mrs. Weasley and Lupin exchanged looks. "She was a member of the Order in its old days," Lupin answered. "But after--" He sighed, dropping his spoon into his bowl. "After what happened with your parents, she really lost a lot of self-confidence. She's pretty much just lived a peaceful life since then... kind of cut off from our world."

"It took a lot of convincing to get her to come teach at Hogwarts," Mr. Weasley said. "But she's a great witch."

"We learned a little bit about her in third year," Hermione piped up, with a nod to Lupin. "She defeated Damon Melton in the First War."

"That she did," Lupin said. "A very evil wizard he was, too."

Mrs. Weasley scowled. "He may as well have been the spawn of You-Know-Who," she said with great distaste.

"So she'll be able to teach us something," Hermione nodded.

"I'd say so." Mrs. Weasley got to her feet. "I almost forgot--we have dessert today."

Tonks smiled brightly. "I made it," she blurted out. "It's Black Forest Trifle."

"Looks delicious," Harry said, hurriedly finishing up his stew as Mrs. Weasley brought it over.

"I didn't know you could cook, Tonks," Fred jested, grinning over at her.

"My attempt to become domesticated," she returned with a smile.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Weasley was bustling around, trying to find more dishes. "Where is that silverware?" she muttered to herself, peering around the kitchen. "Ah." She lifted a large chest from the top of a china cabinet and opened it. "What--" She pulled a shining gold tiara out. "This isn't a fork."

Ron laughed. "What's that doing in the kitchen?"

"It's beautiful," Ginny breathed. "Let me try it on!" She sprang up from her chair and grabbed it out of her mother's hands, setting it on her head. "How do I look?" she asked, twirling for Harry.

He chuckled. "Like a princess."

She beamed.

"There was tons of lovely old jewelry in here," Tonks said. "Remember when we started cleaning this place, Molly?"

"Yes," Mrs. Weasley said. "Boxes of the stuff. Mrs. Black's." She sighed. "It's a pity Sirius had us throw it all out, really."

Mundungus shook his head in agreement. "Shame."

"She had quite the collection," Tonks continued, ignoring Mundungus. "I wish we could have gotten that old locket pried open. I was curious to see the photos inside. My family history's not so illustrious, but I'm still interested--"

Harry held up both hands. "Wait. What old locket?"

"We found a heavy old locket one day," Tonks told him. "But none of us could get it open. I think you even tried, if I remember right."

Harry pressed his fists into his eyes. "Did it-- did it have a letter "S" engraved on the front?"

"Dunno," Tonks replied. "It could have, I don't remember."

Mrs. Weasley wiped her hands on her robes. "It did, Tonks. Remember? Alastor thought--"

"I said it was probably something of Slytherin's, bein' in this house," growled Mad-Eye, "and you'd be better off leavin' it be."

"But what happened to it?" asked Harry. He was gripping the arms of his chair so hard that his knuckles were turning white.

"Sirius probably threw it out," Mrs. Weasley said.

"Or someone rescued it from the trash and sold it," said Harry, turning on Mundungus.

"Now wait just a minute, I never--"

"You've been nicking Sirius' stuff the whole time!" Harry burst out.

Mrs. Weasley wore a confused expression. "Harry, dear. Why is it so important?"

He pulled the fake Horcrux from his pocket and slammed it on the table. "This is why!" he cried. "The initials on the note... R.A.B... someone took the real locket, the real Horcrux, someone who was close to Voldemort... a Death Eater... and he hid it _here._"

The entire table stared blankly back at him.

"Regulus Black!" he yelled.

A look of understanding washed over Lupin's face. "Regulus," he said. "Of course. Why didn't I see it?"

"So," Harry continued, glaring at Mundungus, "if you stole it and pawned it, you'd better be able to tell me where to find it, because I swear--"

"Hold on!" Mundungus cried. "I didn't steal it! Sirius must've thrown it away, 'e must've... I didn't..."

Mad-Eye got to his feet. "Lucky thing for us," he said shortly, "I always carry a bit of Veritaserum on me at all times for just this sort of situation."

Mundungus' eyes grew wide. "There'll be no need for that, I'm tellin' the truth..."

"We'll soon find out," Mad-Eye said sharply, and poured the contents of the vial down Mundungus' throat.

"What's yer name?" said Mad-Eye. His voice was gruff.

"Mundungus Fletcher."

"And have you been stealin' things from this house?"

"Yes! But I swear," he shuddered violently, "not that."

"Say it again. Did you take any locket from this house?"

"No!"

Satisfied, he gave a nod to Harry and returned to his chair.

Mundungus trembled and downed his butterbeer. "There, now," he said. "Happy?"

Harry sat back in defeat. "Sirius must have thrown it away, then." He shook his head. "How am I going to find it now?"

"Or maybe not," Ginny voiced. "There's one more person who's been stealing stuff from here. Or should I say elf?"

"Kreacher." Harry rose to his feet and went to the door.

"What are you doing?" Ron wanted to know.

"There's loads of stuff in here that he's nicked," Harry explained. "Maybe it's in here." He tossed the house-elf's moth-eaten blanket into the middle of the kitchen floor and dug around, lighting his wand to look into the dark corners, prying up loose tiles. He found plenty of Kreacher's odds and ends and other rescued heirlooms, but no locket.

"No luck?" Mrs. Weasley set a dish of trifle in front of Ginny.

He shook his head.

"Well, there's one more place to check, you know." She dished up another serving and set it in front of him as he sat down.

"Where's that?"

"The Hogwarts Express leaves tomorrow morning."


	7. Chapter 7

"C'mon!" Ginny raced through the station, dodging people. "We're going to miss it!"

"Oh, leave it, Gin," Ron puffed. "We'll just go back and take Dad's car."

"Don't think I'm going to let that happen again," Ginny argued. "I remember how angry Mum was at you. You may be a git sometimes, but I like having my brother alive."

"Thought you said Mum wouldn't commit murder?" teased Ron, and Ginny stuck her tongue out at him.

"Almost there," Harry panted, pointing up at the plastic sign that indicated that they were on platform eight.

"So do we _have_ to run?" Ron protested.

Ginny grinned. "Full speed ahead to nine and three-quarters!" She launched into overdrive, and Ron groaned.

"Excuse me!" called a small voice from behind them, and Harry turned to see a small, dark-haired girl running after them. She had a cart in tow, with an owl in a cage resting on top that looked like it might topple off at any moment. "Excuse me, did you say nine and three-quarters?"

Harry smiled down at her. "First time at Hogwarts?" he said kindly.

She nodded, her eyes bright and anxious. "I'm afraid I'm going to be late, and I can't find the platform--"

"Well, come on with us. Here, let me take your owl... poor thing's going to fall off your cart there--" Harry lifted the cage off the girl's cart, and they started running again.

"I'm Melody," she said breathlessly. "Melody Salpeter."

"Well, Melody," Harry replied, as they came to a stop, "you just watch Hermione here, okay? See how she does it."

Hermione smiled down at the girl before she took off running at the barrier and disappeared.

"Whoa," Melody gasped, her eyes wide. "That's amazing."

"Would you like to try now?" Harry asked.

She shook her head.

"I'll go," Ron offered, and pushed his cart through the wall.

"C'mon now," Harry said. "Give it a go." He remembered Mrs. Weasley's words of wisdom. "It's best to do it at a bit of a run."

Melody took a deep breath, gripped her cart, and took off toward the barrier. A moment later, she'd vanished.

"You go," Ginny said. "She'll be wanting her owl."

Harry smiled and ran ahead. "Here you are," he said, setting Melody's owl on top of her cart.

"That was wicked," she appraised, beaming up at him. "Thanks."

"No problem," he said, as Ginny came rushing through.

The whistle blew then, and they hurried onto the train. "Bet there's not going to be a single compartment free," Hermione said.

No sooner than she had opened her mouth, a door slid open. "Hermione! Harry! C'mon, sit with us!"

"Hi, Neville," Hermione returned. "Hi, Luna."

Neville bent forward as they settled into their seats. "You won't believe it," he said gravely. "There are so many people not coming back this year."

"The Patil twins?" guessed Hermione.

"No," Neville said, his eyes downcast. "They're back. Their-- well, their parents were killed. They're living with their aunt now, and she thought this would be the safest place for them to go."

Hermione covered her mouth. "Oh, no."

"But the Creevey brothers aren't coming back," he continued, "and Malfoy obviously isn't coming back..."

"Seamus?" Harry wondered.

Neville grinned. "I hear he fought with his mum for weeks, but he's here."

Harry smiled. "I'm glad."

"Me too. Dean's back, too, so nothing will have changed there. But as for creepy Slytherins, guess who else is gone?"

Harry shrugged. "Who?"

"Goyle," Neville said dramatically. "Rumor has it that he's moving on to the Death Eaters, just like his old pal Malfoy."

"Git," spat Harry.

"I think you mean 'gits,'" Luna said suddenly, "in the plural sense."

Ron erupted in laughter.

"Ron," Hermione interjected, "oughtn't we get to the prefects' carriage?"

"Oh, right!" He jumped to his feet. "I completely forgot."

"What do they need you for?" Harry grinned. "They just need to get instructions from the Head Boy and Girl..." He broke off as a slow smile spread across Hermione's face.

"You two?"

Hermione nodded. "We weren't going to say anything," she said, "because we were coming with you-- but seeing as we're going back to Hogwarts, at least for a little while, well... we may as well get on with our duties, right?"

"I shouldn't have expected any different. Of course you were going to be Head Girl, Hermione." He laughed. "Go on."

She grinned and led Ron out of the compartment.

Harry shook his head, watching his friends go. "Did you know?" he asked, turning round to face Ginny.

"Yup," she said. "You should've seen Mum when the owl came."

Harry chuckled. "I bet."

"School owls," Luna put in, "should not be used this year." When no one interrupted her, she kept going. "They are all unregistered Animagi, you know, Death Eaters installed by You-Know-Who to read the students' mail and eat their pound cakes."

"Right," Harry said with a perfectly straight face. "Thanks, Luna."

She nodded and went back to staring out the window.

"I wonder," Neville said, pulling the cord on a Chocolate Frog, "who the new teachers are going to be this year." He handed his card to Harry, who checked to see what famous witch was on the back-- it was Sairish Isra, "noted alchemist of the early seventeenth century." He pocketed it.

"Oh," Ginny said brightly, "do you remember Tonks at all? Younger witch, pink hair? She's a Metamorphmagus... anyway, she's teaching Transfiguration."

"And there's an Auror coming to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts," Harry added. "Eva Wingfield."

"I've heard of her somewhere before," Neville mused.

"Hermione says that Lupin mentioned her in our third year Defense Against the Dark Arts class," Harry replied.

Neville laughed. "And you think I'd remember something like that?"

After a long train ride, during which Snape and Malfoy were thoroughly abused and they had all discussed the best ways in which to torture the pair of them, the Hogwarts Express came to a halt.

Harry followed Neville into the rain, taking a big breath of the damp night air. "Firs' years over here!" came the familiar call, and he turned to see a gaggle of kids pressed around Hagrid, shivering in the rain. He recognized Melody among them, her eyes wide, clutching a cloak around her, and wished he could tell her that though Hagrid looked like a fierce half-giant, he was really just a huge teddy bear.

"C'mon," Luna called, climbing into one of the great thestral-drawn carriages.

"I don't think I like it," Ginny declared, as Harry helped her in.

"What?" He sat down next to her.

She nodded at the creatures. "Being able to see them."

"I," Luna professed, "think they look peaceful."

Ginny shuddered. "They're creepy." She edged closer to Harry, and he put a protective arm around her.

Harry gazed up at the outline of Hogwarts, glittering like a mosaic of fireflies against the night sky. He knew what awaited him inside-- the Great Hall with its roaring fire, tables full of puddings and delicious dishes, and the only room he'd ever thought of as home. _And a lot of empty seats,_ he realized suddenly, dodging raindrops as he made his way into the castle.

"Guess who else isn't coming back?" Hermione said sadly as she slid into place at the Gryffindor table across from Harry and Ginny.

"Who?" asked Ginny.

"Romilda Vane," replied Hermione.

"What happened to her?"

"She died," Hermione said quietly, absentmindedly playing with a knothole in the table. "She and her little brother and her dad-- all murdered."

Harry let out a breath. "She was a right piece of work," he declared, remembering the love potion, "but I'd never have wished that upon her."

Hermione pursed her lips. "Are they doing the Sorting backwards?"

"What?" Ron turned. Sure enough, they had started off with Blaise Zabini's little sister Allyn, who looked nothing like her brother with piercing green eyes and a mane of long, shocking red hair. Within seconds, she had taken her place at the Slytherin table.

"Maybe," Ginny suggested with a sad smile, "It's McGonagall's way of trying to keep Professor Dumbledore's spirit alive."

"Look," Hermione said, pointing. "It's the girl from the train station."

They all watched Melody climb up onto the stool. "Very tough," the Sorting Hat growled softly. "Courage I see here, lots of courage... but also a very sharp mind. Well then... better be... Ravenclaw!"

The Ravenclaw table erupted in cheers as Melody took her seat.

Ginny shrugged. "Least she won't be getting anything in green."

Her brother chuckled. "Blimey," he said, "this is a small group."

"Loads of kids are probably being kept home because their parents don't think this place is safe anymore," Harry pointed out, as "Hauser, Max," a tall, black-haired boy, headed to the Slytherin table. "Just because Dumbledore's gone..." He felt suddenly defensive of Professor McGonagall, who congratulated "Franco, Gisela," a pale blonde girl with light blue eyes, as she became a Slytherin. "She's no Dumbledore, but she's not going to let this school fall to the dogs."

Hermione stoutly agreed. "She's a master of discipline, and very smart and organized."

Ron snorted.

"What?"

"Sorry, but you sounded just a smidge like Percy there."

She flicked him on the arm, and the foursome watched the rest of the Sorting Ceremony in silence, all the way through "Andrabi, Huda," who became a Gryffindor.

The chatter in the Great Hall died down as Professor McGonagall came to the podium, which was already dripping with candlewax.

"Good evening," she intoned, looking out through her tiny glasses at the sea of students blinking back at her. "Welcome back to Hogwarts. I have a few start-of-term notices-- first, I would like to welcome our two newest staff members. Here to take the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and Head of Gryffindor House is Professor Wingfield; taking over my Transfiguration post will be Professor Tonks. Also, taking over responsibilities as Head of Slytherin house this year will be our Potions master, Professor Slughorn."

The Great Hall broke out into a round of applause.

Ginny giggled. "Professor Tonks."

"I can't see myself calling her that," Harry admitted, while Ron shook his head in agreement.

"Second, as always, the Forbidden Forest is off-limits to all students. Third, tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will be taking place soon-- any interested individuals should talk to their Heads of House. And finally, Mr. Filch, our caretaker, would like me to remind all students that there is a ban on all products bought at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes." She sighed. "You know, I sat in my office for hours before you all arrived this evening, wondering what I would say to you when this time arrived. I wondered-- what could I possibly say to you at a time like this? And I realized-- you are so used to the words of Professor Dumbledore at the start of each term, his wise words and idiosyncratic eccentricities-- I think some of you might yet remember his idea of 'a few words--' that anything I had to say here would be unfit for this hall, for this time." She paused, drawing in a shaky breath. "I miss him terribly," she went on, "as I know you all do-- and he misses us." She smiled, trying desperately to suppress tears. "And fortunately for me, someone came to tell you that tonight." Without another word, she turned and went back to her seat.

A low murmur ran through the students in the Hall, which was quickly silenced as a clear, colorful song echoed off the walls and filled the entire space.

"It's Fawkes," Ginny realized, "isn't it?"

Harry watched, wide-eyed, as the bird swooped down and alighted gracefully on the podium, singing in a strong voice. The dulcet tones of the song told of loss, of faith and hope, and of strength, all at once. Hermione dabbed a tear from her eye.

The first-years, who had never heard phoenix song before, whispered excitedly amongst themselves.

"It's a real live phoenix!" Gisela hissed to the Zabini girl.

She sniffed rather haughtily. "He matches my hair," was all she said.

Slowly, the glorious melody died down, and Fawkes stood silently upon the podium, scanning the students. With a flick of his wings, he soared through the air and landed on the Gryffindor table, his talons clicking softly on the wood. Upon landing, he made a small bow to Harry, who couldn't move for shock, and took to flight again, disappearing from the room. Several of the students stared, astonished.

Uncomfortable, Harry shifted in his seat, wishing they would all look away.

"That's Harry Potter," said a first-year Ravenclaw knowingly, and Melody dropped her fork.

"I met him," she replied, "at the train station..."

The other Ravenclaw shook his head. "Yeah, right," he said, putting his napkin in his lap.

Professor McGonagall clapped her hands then, and food appeared on the table in front of them.

Ron began to heap his plate with lamb chops and roast chicken, when he noticed Harry hadn't touched a thing. "Going to eat, then?" He raised an eyebrow.

He stabbed a potato with his fork. "Yeah."

"Hello!" came a jovial voice from the end of the table, and Nearly Headless Nick emerged from a dish of cranberry sauce. Several first-years shrieked.

"Aw, Nick," Ginny groaned, "that's just plain tasteless."

Nick looked down and stifled a laugh. "Sorry," he said airily to the first-years, who were still mostly frozen mid-bite.

"How was your summer?" Hermione asked politely.

"Well, my annual request to join the Headless Hunt..."

"Denied?" guessed Ron.

But Nick grinned. "Granted."

"Congratulations!" Harry choked out. "How did--"

"New times, new rules," said Nick, who had obviously been bursting with this news. "The first ride was just last night. It was splendid!"

"Where did you go?" Ginny wanted to know.

Nick stuck his nose in the air. "I can't tell you that!" he exclaimed, appalled. "You're not a member of the Headless Hunt."

"Well, I--"

He flew down and wedged himself between Ginny and Harry. "It was _exhilarating!"_ he puffed, and Harry fancied that his cheeks would have been glowing if he were alive. "We rode through Staplecross, and Newenden, and Little Hangleton, where we met this poor, ragged woman floating around in the trees by a huge old mansion..."

"Sounds like loads of fun," Ron lied, helping himself to more potatoes.

Nick looked affronted. "Well, if that's how you feel about it..." And with a tilt of his head, he glided away.

"Well done," Ginny said sarcastically, turning back to her food.

Hermione just smiled.

"Hey, Harry," Seamus called, as the boys unpacked their trunks. "Look what I got on the train today!" He tossed him a card.

"You've got to be kidding," Harry groaned. "They've put Rufus Scrimgeour on the Chocolate Frog cards?"

Ron grabbed it out of his fingers. "This is good kindling, this is."

Seamus grinned. "That's what I figured."

"I won't even save him to collect the set," Harry declared. "But I'm one closer, myself." He showed Seamus the card Neville had given him.

Seamus let out a low whistle. "Nice. That's a rare one."

"Sairish Isra?" Ron gasped, peering over Seamus' shoulder. "Wicked. I'd give anything to have her."

"Ahem," came a withered-sounding cough, and Harry turned to see Professor McGonagall holding Fawkes' perch. "I wonder if I might interrupt?"

Seamus, Dean, and Neville quickly made themselves scarce, while Ron simply sat down on the edge of his bed and stared as Professor McGonagall sat the perch next to Hedwig's cage.

"Professor Dumbledore," she began, "all-seeing as he was, has left some things for you."

Harry gaped at her. "How did--"

"A few weeks before-- before he died," she said, settling herself into a sitting position on the edge of Harry's bed, "he was acting rather strangely. Like-- well, like a man who felt death upon him."

"So he knew?" Harry asked, unable to stop himself.

"Albus knew a great deal," she said slowly, choosing her words carefully. "I always wondered just how to classify him. He wasn't a Seer-- even if he had the true gift, I wouldn't put him with Sybill Trelawney. He had a different magic about him altogether-- always one step ahead of everyone else." She smiled fondly.

"I don't understand, Professor. If he knew that Malfoy wanted to kill him-- and I told him that Malfoy was up to something, of course he would have found out-- why didn't he do something to protect himself?"

"He always had the best interests of others at heart," Professor McGonagall replied sadly. "I guess you could say that kindness was his biggest weakness."

Harry leaned up against the wall. "He knew." Involuntarily, his fists clenched.

"Don't be angry, Potter," Professor McGonagall said softly. "If there's one thing I'm sure he would tell you, it would be to leave your anger." She paused. "It's your wits you've got to use now. And his."

He turned, surprised.

"He's left you his Pensieve," she told him, rising. "And this." She handed him a letter, sealed with the Hogwarts crest.

"And Fawkes?" Harry nodded toward the phoenix, who had flown in through the window and was now preening on his perch.

Professor McGonagall smiled. "He came of his own free will." With that, she turned and left.

"Bloody hell," Ron said. "I wonder what all that meant?"

Harry shrugged and sat down, the letter in his hands. He carefully tore it open.

_Harry--_

_In just a few short hours, I hope to embark upon what will surely be one of the biggest challenges I have faced; a journey to find, and destroy, one of Lord Voldemort's Horcruxes. Of course, you will know all about that, as I hope to bring you with me._

_However, I fear that soon I will be leaving on one of life's greatest adventures-- which, of course, is death. And in that case, it will fall to you to find and destroy the rest of the Horcruxes._

_I am leaving you my Pensieve-- and all the contents of my office-- in the hope that you will be able to complete what I have begun. I know that you must be filled with hate, and shock at the treachery that has taken place, but I would counsel you to remember that you have power the Dark Lord does not. You know how to love, Harry, and I know that may seem inconsequential at times-- but believe me, it is of the utmost importance. Be aware of your feelings. And don't turn away from those who can provide you with comfort._

_Fawkes, I am quite sure, will find it in his heart to come to you in the long run. You were loyal to me, Harry, like no other, and he will be loyal to you._

_I shall miss you greatly. Good luck._

_Warmly,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

Tears prickling in his eyes, Harry slipped the letter back into the envelope.

Curiosity was killing Ron. "What'd it say?"

"I'm going to find that bloody house-elf tomorrow morning," is all Harry would say; and without another word to Ron, he slipped the letter under his pillow, pulled his comforter over his head, and fell asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Harry awoke to weak sunlight filtering through the mottled glass of his window. His first thought was to close his eyes and go back to sleep, where he had been having pleasant dreams about flying with Puddlemere United. But his fingers brushed Dumbledore's letter, and he immediately swung his legs out of bed.

"You're up early," Ron yawned, rubbing his eyes.

"I told you, I'm going to find Kreacher."

"You really think he'd have it?" He nestled back into his pillow, and before Harry could respond, he was snoring again.

Harry strode through the commonroom, ducked through the portrait hole, and marched straight down to the kitchens, where he was almost knocked over by a house-elf carrying a tray of biscuits.

"Pardon me, sir," she muttered, and with a slight bow, kept on her way.

There was a loud crash across the room, followed by a gasp. "Harry Potter!" It was Dobby.

"Hi, Dobby," said Harry. "Look, I'm just here to see Kreacher, okay?"

Dobby made a low bow. "Kreacher is right over there, sir," and his face fell.

"Sorry, Dobby, it's just that he has something I need, and..."

"Oh no, sir, it's not that... Dobby is just sad that Kreacher will not stop..."

"Stop what?" But his question was answered as a gale of giggles erupted like a volcano, and Winky sent a bottle of firewhisky crashing to the ground. Promptly, Kreacher pressed a full one into her outstretched hand.

"Kreacher!" exclaimed Harry.

He glanced up. "Filthy brat talking to Kreacher, oh my poor Mistress, what would she say..." Dragging a frying pan behind him, he made his way across the room. "What does it want?"

"First, I order you to stop trying to get Winky drunk."

His face fell. "And the filthy little brat says..."

_"Second,"_ he said warningly, "I want you to hand over the locket you took from Sirius' house."

Kreacher's eyes grew wide. "Master wants the locket, he wants Slytherin's locket... Kreacher will not give it to the filthy brat, no..."

"Kreacher, I ordered you to give it to me. Now where is it?"

Dobby, who was watching this exchange, grew furious. "Give Harry Potter his locket!"

"It's not his!" Kreacher turned on Dobby, raising the frying pan over his head.

"Kreacher, stop it!"

As if trying to fight a pair of invisible hands, Kreacher held the frying pan in mid-air, trying desperately to swing it at Dobby, then gave up and brought it back to his side.

"Thank you, sir," Dobby said, wiping his brow.

"No problem. Now I want that locket, Kreacher."

"Kreacher cannot give it to Master!" said Kreacher triumphantly.

"And why is that?"

"Kreacher does not have it," he said sadly. "One of the brats has stolen it, my poor Mistress, what would she say, her only son..."

"Who stole it, Kreacher?"

"Filthy, filthy brat..."

Harry seized his tea towel. _"Who stole it?"_

Kreacher blinked. "The thief," he whispered, barely audible. "The one with the pipe."

"Mundungus," Harry spat. He let go of him. "Tell me, Kreacher. Where did the locket come from?"

Kreacher looked as though he were about to burst. "Filthy brat, we will not..."

"Tell me!"

"Mistress' only son brought it back. He told Kreacher to keep it safe and out of sight, and never let anyone have it."

"Regulus?"

Kreacher nodded.

"How did he get the locket?"

"Kreacher went with Master to a cave, then in a boat to an island. Kreacher had to force Master to drink an awful potion, and Master took a locket from the goblet; then Master put another locket in its place and we went-- dead bodies everywhere, awful, awful Dark things-- and Master Stunned Kreacher so he would not have to see. Then Kreacher woke up at home and Master handed over the locket and said to keep it safe and never let anyone have it. And that was the last time Kreacher saw Master." He hung his head.

"So that's it," Harry said to himself. "And Mundungus Fletcher has it... or sold it..." He thought fast. "I need to get to Knockturn Alley." And then he squashed against the wall, as he was nearly knocked over again by the same small house-elf, who made another brief bow and quick apology. "And I need to get to breakfast." He exited the kitchens, as Dobby waved furiously.

"So Dung did have it?" Hermione took a bite of toast.

Harry nodded.

"But Mad-Eye gave him Veritaserum," protested Ron. "I mean..."

"What were the questions he asked?" Hermione interrupted.

"Huh?" Harry and Ron exchanged a look.

"The questions! What did Mad-Eye ask Mundungus? He asked him if he'd taken it, right? So maybe he still hadn't taken it at the time." She raised an eyebrow.

"That rotten git," Harry muttered. "Well at any rate, I'll bet he sold it to Borgin and Burkes. Kreacher said the locket belonged to Slytherin--"

"So Mad-Eye was right about that--"

"Which means I've got to get to Knockturn Alley. I can't Apparate, and I'm not waiting for the next trip to Hogsmeade... I doubt there'll be any this year anyway..."

"What about McGonagall's old office?" Ron suggested. "Tonks is in there now. I'm sure if you told her what was going on, she'd let you use the Floo Network to get there."

"Ronald Weasley," said Hermione sternly, "Tonks would not let Harry use her fireplace, no matter if she is our friend or not. She's a teacher now."

Even though Harry hoped that she was wrong, he knew she was right-- as always.

"Furthermore," she continued, "there is no way Harry is going to just waltz into Borgin and Burkes and demand that he hand over a locket that belonged to Salazar Slytherin."

Ron rolled his eyes and speared a sausage with his fork. "What else do you propose, then?"

"Let's go to Potions," she suggested. "And then you two can continue with your ridiculous plots later." Grabbing up her books, she left the table.

"What's with her?" Harry said.

Ron shrugged. "Dunno."

"You two have a fight or something?"

He shook his head. "No, but she's bloody impossible sometimes." A smile crossed his face. "Worth it, though."

Harry laughed and gathered his books. "You go ahead. I've got to get something." He dashed up to the dormitories, rummaged through his trunk until he found a small pouch, then tucked it away in his robes and made his way down to the dungeons and sat down at a table with Ron, Padma Patil, and Hermione, who was already absorbed in the first chapter.

"I'm surprised you're only just starting now," Ron jested.

She looked up, perfectly straight-faced. "Oh, I've already read half of the book; I just wanted to refresh my memory before class."

Harry and Ron exchanged a glance, and Harry had to suppress his laughter. They watched as their classmates strode in, followed by Professor Slughorn, puffed up as usual in a velvet waistcoat. It was forest green today.

"Harry, m'boy!" He clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Can't wait to see what you'll whip up for me this year."

"Uh, right, sir," Harry faltered, trying to sound sure of himself. Ruefully, he pictured Snape's book, lying in a pile of stuff in the Room of Requirement.

Hermione gave him a look that plainly was a sarcastic version of "Good luck," and took out her quill.

"Good morning, all," Slughorn greeted them, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "I know that your N.E.W.T.'s are this year, but I really do think we'll have some fun in here this year. I've got some surprises brewing for you--" he chuckled at his little joke-- "but they shouldn't be too difficult for you, right?" He threw a wink in Harry's direction. "We'll be working with some difficult potions this year, some of which are strictly regulated by the Ministry. We'll do a Memory Draught and an Elixir of Strength, but we're also going to brew up some Polyjuice Potion and even a little Veritaserum."

The dungeon remained silent as the students exchanged surprised glances.

"Today will be a pretty light day for you. The first potion we'll be starting on is Polyjuice Potion. We talked about it last year, but never got around to making it. The instructions aren't in your books, so I've written them here on the blackboard for you-- since the lacewing flies have to stew for so long, I want you to get started today. Make sure to copy down the instructions. Right then, in groups of four... off you go!"

"What a challenge," Ron said with a roll of his eyes.

"Who's the one that did it the first time?" Hermione reminded him, as she went to the cupboard to retrieve the lacewing flies.

Ron said nothing; he flipped his book open and began idly turning pages.

"So," Padma began, breaking the awkward silence, "how was your summer?" She turned to Ron. "Your brother got married, right?"

"Yup. Just before school."

"Where was the wedding?"

"It was actually in the backyard at our house," he told her, "in the garden."

"Ohh," she breathed, "how romantic! My cousin Mala got married at our house two years ago, right in front of this little waterfall we have. I love outside weddings."

Ron found himself smiling. "Yeah. It was nice. We had a waterfall too, well sort of, and we made sure to get all the gnomes out, of course..."

Padma giggled.

A jar slammed down onto the table, and Harry looked up to see Hermione glaring down at Ron. "Ronald," she said evenly, "why don't you get a cauldron."

"I'll just... write down the directions," Padma said, cowed, and took out her quill.

The rest of the Potions lesson passed in relative silence as everyone concentrated on getting their Polyjuice Potion started. Ron was flushed as he added the lacewing flies to the cauldron, and Hermione stirred just a bit too vigorously, splashing some of the solution on Anthony Goldstein's robes as he passed.

"Oho!" Slughorn exclaimed, hands on his belly, passing by the cauldron. "Miss Granger, well done. If I didn't know better, I'd think you'd done this before." He smiled down at her, and she bent all her concentration on stirring the lacewing flies.

"It should be alright now, don't you think?" she asked.

He peered into the cauldron, stroking his mustache. "Oh, yes. I think you can safely leave it for today. We'll let the lacewing flies stew and then have a look at it later."

Satisfied with this answer, Hermione extinguished the fire underneath the cauldron, gathered up her things, and without a second look at anyone, exited the room.

"Bloody hell," Ron swore. He turned to Harry, who shrugged.

"Going to see what she's on about?" he asked quietly.

"Let's just clean up," Ron said, and brushed the broken wings off their table with his open palm.

Padma lifted the cauldron and went to set it with the others. "Anthony," she said coolly, passing him by.

"Padma," he replied, just as coolly.

Harry watched this exchange with some interest. "Something happen?" he asked, off-handedly.

"We started dating at the end of last year, and then after my parents died, he decided I was too much baggage to handle," she informed him matter-of-factly, folding up her parchment with the Polyjuice instructions.

"That's awful," Ron said, glaring over Padma's shoulder at Anthony, who was now laughing with Terry Boot. "Slimy git."

She nodded. "At any rate, we're obviously not speaking now."

Harry regarded her with some interest as the three of them ambled toward the door. "I'm glad you and your sister are here, Padma."

"So am I. Parvati and I never liked our aunt very well. We were good friends with our cousin Mala when we were younger, but she went to school at Beauxbatons and now she's married, so it was just her and us since July. I was happy when she told us she wanted us to come back here. This is really the only family I have now."

Harry smiled sadly. "I've felt that way for years."

"Well, I'll see you guys around."

"See you."

Instead of going up to Gryffindor Tower, Harry led Ron straight outdoors into the late summer sunshine.

"Wait-- where are we going? We have Charms in just a couple minutes--"

But Ron followed Harry right down to Hagrid's hut and stood there as he knocked on the door.

"Who's there?"

"It's Harry."

The door swung open. "Well, c'mon in," Hagrid said. "Cup o' tea?"

"Sure," he agreed, speaking for the two of them, and they both sat down in one of the huge chairs. "Hagrid-- I have a favor to ask of you."

"An' wha' type o' favor is tha'?"

He paused, choosing his words carefully. "There's a locket that I need. It used to be in Sirius' house, but Mundungus nicked it, and he pawned it somewhere-- I'm guessing Borgin and Burkes."

Hagrid turned. "Yer askin' me to go ter Knockturn Alley?"

"I'm asking you to find me a way to get there."

He scratched his chin. "Blimey, Harry. I dunno..."

"I wouldn't ask you if it wasn't important, Hagrid. It's one of the Horcruxes."

"Professor McGonagall wouldn' be too happy abou' tha'."

"Would you get it for me then?"

Hagrid poured a cup of tea for him and fell into a chair across the table. "She wouldn' be too happy if she found out I was goin' to run errands for students in Knockturn Alley, neither."

"I'm very sure she wouldn't get angry at you if she found it was for," Harry said reasonably.

Hagrid paused at this, then gave Harry a grin. "I think," he said, "that yeh lot are havin' a bad effect on me."

"Is that a yes?"

"Actually, I, uh, I've got ter go down there-- Knockturn Alley-- meself in a few days. Yeh know-- Flesh-Eatin' Slug Repellent an' all. So I might be able ter drop in-- ask around a bit."

"Thanks, Hagrid," Harry said, with a sigh of relief.

"No promises, now," he warned, refilling Harry's teacup.

Harry drained it and stood up. "Well, we have to get back up to the castle. I have Charms in a few minutes. But... here." He withdrew the pouch from his robe and dropped it in front of Hagrid; a few Galleons spilled out onto the beat-up wooden table. "In case you need to buy the locket back."

Hagrid nodded. "Get on with yeh, then." He looked after them, something like wistfulness in his eyes. "Wait!"

Harry and Ron turned at once, and he put a hand on both of their shoulders. "Yeh know... Fang's always been fond o' yeh, Ron. Would yeh mind... would yeh mind feedin' 'im?"

"Well, sure," Ron agreed, "but Hagrid, aren't you only going to be gone a day?"

Hagrid acted surprised. "Well o' course, Ron, but Fang's a real big dog, an' he eats a lot. He needs feedin' more'n once a day."

Ron shrugged. "Alright," he said. "Do you know when you're going?"

"I'll let yeh know," Hagrid said. "Now get up ter class."

"Thanks, Hagrid," Harry said again, and ran back up to the castle with Ron.

The evening sky burned with vivid carmines and pinks, gilded with an edge of orange fire, bright but softened like an oil painting in low light. It was under this splash of color that Harry and Ginny sat, outlined as a shadow against an ancient cedar tree, watching the sparrows soar across the riotous sky in quiet peace.

"Slughorn," Ginny began, after a long silence during which she spent relishing the feel of Harry absentmindedly playing with her hair, "thinks you must have tutored me in Potions."

Amused, Harry let out a chuckle. "Is that right?"

She nodded. "Got ten points for Gryffindor for my Draught of Living Death." Slipping off her sandals, she dug her toes into the cool soil.

"Congratulations."

She smiled. "I saw Hagrid leave today," she said absently, making little trenches with her toes. "He looked like he was in a hurry. I wonder where he was off to."

"Knockturn Alley," Harry responded, "or at least that's what he told Ron and me..." He related that afternoon's conversation to her, and his strange instructions to take care of Fang.

"Odd," she remarked. "I don't think he would have been seen off by McGonagall and accompanied by Mad-Eye if he was just going to get Flesh-Eating Slug Repellent, though."

Peeling a tuft of moss off of a nearby rock, Harry shrugged. "Maybe McGonagall was just telling him what brand to purchase, and Moody was going along because he needed an extra pair of hands to carry it all."

Playfully, she slugged him on the arm. "Please don't pull the moss up," she reproved gently, watching him wrap it around his finger. "It takes ages to grow, and it's very delicate."

"That," Harry noted, "sounds like something Neville would say."

She laughed, a musical sound. "Ironically, he's the one who told me that, in my second year."

Setting the moss back on the ground, he smiled. "Sorry. My apologies to you, Neville, and the moss."

With a grin, she leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Apology accepted."

Behind them, a stick snapped, and they turned to see Ron, hands jammed in his pockets, a forlorn look papered on his face.

"What's the matter?" Ginny stood, wiping the dirt off her jeans.

Momentarily, Ron regarded his sister, her worried face, her searching eyes; ultimately, he turned back to Harry. "It's Hagrid," he said starkly.

Harry scrambled to his feet, fearing the worst. "What--" He tried getting other words to come out, but his mouth couldn't form a single syllable.

"Hagrid's dead." Ron's voice was lifeless, dull.

Ginny burst into tears, while Harry stood there, shadowed by the cedar leaves, stunned into silence.

"McGonagall just told us," Ron said. "Us-- Hermione and me."

For several moments, the only sound in the trees was Ginny's hiccuping sobs and the crunching of leaves beneath her feet as she went to Harry for comfort. And he held her, automatically folded his arms around her and plunged his fingers into her hair how she liked so well, and hoped that it would all be a dream, or a cruel joke at the very least.

"Stop," Harry finally managed, and Ginny looked up, taken aback. He shook his head and pressed her head against his chest. "Not you," he reassured her. "Keep crying, as long as you need to."

She drew in a shaky breath. "Aren't-- aren't you going to cry?"

Harry supposed this was a good question, but he felt nothing but numb. There was no prickling sensation in the corners of his eyes, no deep well of tears threatening to overflow; only decaying, empty, numbness. "No," he finally said. "I've cried for my parents, and for Sirius, and for Dumbledore; I don't have anything left in me for Hagrid but anger."

Ginny stepped back. "What do you mean?"

He turned to Ron. "Who did it?"

"McGonagall didn't tell us anything, mate."

"She'll tell me." And he drew his wand and headed for the castle.

With a troubled glance at each other, Ginny and Ron hurried after him.

"Yes," Professor McGonagall was saying, "but I don't see how--" She whirled around. "Potter! Mr. Weasley! Miss Weasley! What are you all doing up here, barging into my office?" She stretched out her arms and advanced on them. "Come now, I know you're worked up, but now is not the time!"

"No," Harry said sternly. "I want to know who killed Hagrid."

Minerva McGonagall's lips were pressed into the thin, severe line she reserved for particularly infuriated moments. "Potter. You will take your friends and remove yourself from this room--"

_"And,"_ Harry continued, his voice growing louder, "Hagrid was also on an errand for me."

Moody, who was the only other person in the room, piped up then. "What sort of errand?" he wanted to know.

"He was going to see if he could get the locket from Borgin and Burkes for me," Harry explained. "Turns out that Dung stole it after all. I figured that would have been the likeliest place for him to pawn it."

"Might as well give it to you, then." Mad-Eye drew out a clumsily wrapped package and handed it to Harry, who tore off the brown paper immediately, like a child on Christmas morning.

Harry let out a relieved sigh. "It's here," he said, and tried to pry the charm open.

"No dice," Ron commented.

"Then this is the one," confirmed Harry.

"Your money pouch," Moody told him, "is still on Hagrid's table. We managed to get the locket away from old Borgin with some good old brute force." He let out an abbreviated laugh, rather like a low growl, and Professor McGonagall looked away with a disapproving scowl.

Harry chuckled. "I'll have to thank--" He broke off. He wouldn't have to thank him. There would be no thanking Hagrid. "Well-- thank you, at least," he finished lamely.

With a short nod, Moody acknowledged Harry. He didn't like pleasantries, especially in times like these.

"Professor Moody--" Harry had never quite came around to calling him by either his first name, as he had Sirius, or his last name, as he did Lupin. Of course, the real Moody had never taught at Hogwarts, so it had to be strange for the gruff old Auror to hear the words coming out of Harry's mouth. But Harry couldn't worry about titles just now. "Would you tell me who it was that killed Hagrid?"

"Gonna go lookin' for 'em, aren't you?"

There was no point in lying, especially to Mad-Eye. "Yeah."

"Name's Audric Velos," Moody answered, much to the chagrin of Professor McGonagall. "Young French chap, went to school at Durmstrang. Joined up just a few years ago." Leaning heavily on his walking stick, he clomped across the floor to Harry. "You'll meet 'im, you go lookin' for Voldemort," said Moody. His breath reeked of bourbon. "Go ahead an' kill the little codger if you run across 'im."

Ginny wrinkled her nose, turning away, and went to her brother. "He's mad," she whispered.

Ron's gaze slid condescendingly down his nose. "You think?"

"Where is he?"

Moody shrugged. "Apparated away..."

"No," Harry said impatiently, "not Audric. Hagrid."

Moody jerked a thumb over his left shoulder. "He's..."

Rising from her desk, Professor McGonagall's eyes glowed yellow like a cat's. "Alastor!" she reproached. "Surely, Potter doesn't need to see..."

"Dumbledore would have let me!" protested Harry, his voice rising. "I don't need your protection, it's my fault anyway, I asked him to go to Borgin and Burkes for me... I want... I want to apologize..."

"Potter." Moody took him roughly by the shoulders. "Listen to me. It's not your fault. Hagrid and I were going to Knockturn Alley tonight anyway. The attack wasn't at the shop; Velos spotted us in the street. He went for me first and I blocked, then he went right for Hagrid before I had a chance to do anything."

Harry swallowed hard. "Killing Curse?"

"Yup."

He kicked the leg of a chair. "Why did he go with you? Why not some other member of the Order? An Auror... like Tonks..."

Adjusting her glasses, Professor McGonagall gave Harry a calculating look. "Would you rather Tonks be dead?"

"No!" Harry said quickly. "It's just..." He sank down into a chair and rested his hand on the glossy wood of the armrest. "I'd rather it be no one."

"We all would," said the Headmistress consolingly.

He drummed his fingers on the hard walnut, traced the muted floral pattern with the edge of his finger, his ragged fingernails snagging the fabric. "May I see him?" he said at last.

Professor McGonagall said nothing. Moody stared back at her.

"Very well, then," she relented, and Harry was reminded very much of Mrs. Weasley, who always wanted to keep secrets from him, or so it seemed. _They just have my best interests at heart,_ he tried to tell himself, but his heart was hardened; and it took all his might not to stare holes in the back of Professor McGonagall's head, singeing all the stray hairs out of her impeccable librarian's bun.

She brought him through a set of doors, as the portraits mumbled around them. Harry imagined Phineas Nigellus Black was probably making some unfavorable remark, and cursed him silently.

"There," she said tonelessly, and Harry beheld Hagrid, lying motionless on a large upholstered couch, eyes closed as if he were asleep. For some reason, he was very taken aback by this-- he didn't know what he'd expected. Maybe a great stone coffin like Dumbledore's; or a broken and bruised body, fraught with still-bleeding cuts; or maybe just a live Hagrid, sitting at a cauldron, hatching a baby dragon.

"What I wouldn't give for one of his rock cakes right now," came a husky voice, and it was only then he realized that Ron had come with him.

Harry went forward and put a hand on his great arm. It was cold to the touch. "He doesn't belong here."

Ron turned to Professor McGonagall. "Where will he be buried? Here, like Professor Dumbledore?"

"Yes, right here," she said decidedly.

"It was his home," Ron agreed, thinking this decision was very apt, as he watched his best friend kneel at Hagrid's side.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered, so that no one could hear him. "I promise, we'll take good care of Fang. We'll-- we'll bring him to the Burrow. He'll have lots of space to run there..." He broke off, hastily brushing tears away with the back of his hand. Rocking back onto his heels, he thought of all the times Hagrid had gone missing-- his journey to visit the giants, his brief time behind the thick bars of an Azkaban cell, even that short window of time that he had disappeared at the train station, leaving him to find Platform 9¾ on his own. But he had always come back.

"Let's go," he said suddenly, scrambling to his feet. "I don't want to be here anymore."

Ron nodded.

Holding his breath to keep from losing his composure, he went back into the other room, nodded politely at Moody, and automatically slipped his fingers into Ginny's, pressing his palm against hers just to feel her steady pulse. It was reassuring, he thought, as they went silently up the enchanted staircases to Gryffindor Tower.

There was a figure on the couch in the commonroom, a heap of bushy hair and rumpled robes. Hermione emerged from between the cushions, her face red and marked where the upholstery had left indentations on her face. "Harry," she wailed.

At seeing her expression, Harry's eyes flooded like rivers as she launched herself off the couch and buried her face in his shoulder.

Feeling quite out of place, Ron awkwardly patted her on the shoulder. "Ron," she wept, and took solace in a hug. She looked up at them. "I don't think I can handle much more of this death." She wrung free of his grip and went over to Ginny, and they shared a sisterly embrace. "I don't think I can handle much more at all."

"I wonder," Harry mused, giving Hermione's upper arm a squeeze, "if there are Blast-Ended Skrewts up in heaven?"

She smiled through her tears. "For his sake, I certainly hope so."

"She's always been so put-together," Harry said later, when he and Ginny were alone. He held one of Hermione's half-finished elf sweaters in his hands.

Ginny tilted her head.

"Not easily ruffled," he expounded. "This reaction... I don't know, Gin. It kind of scares me."

"Someone she was close to died," said Ginny matter-of-factly. "It's not something that people easily deal with."

"No," said Harry slowly, choosing his next words carefully, "but normally, Hermione would be searching for an answer to his death. She'd be looking for a reason. It's not like her to cry endlessly like this, and not try to figure something out instead."

Ginny thought about this. "Maybe it's not just Hagrid."

"What do you mean?"

She shrugged. "We should go to sleep."

The last thing he wanted to do was leave the comfort of the commonroom. Ginny's eyes blazed into him, and he rose from the couch. "Night, Gin."

"Night." She rose up on her toes to give him a kiss and headed up the stairs to the girls' dormitory. He lingered there in the firelight, watching her vanish into the darkness. The fire flickered and guttered and went out.

Harry instinctively reached for his wand-- but then again, he was going to have to learn to see with his eyes closed anyway. Gingerly, he put a hand out, and toed his way across the carpet, making his way cautiously to the staircase, the heavy piece of Voldemort's soul thumping like a cold, irregular heartbeat against his chest.


	9. Chapter 9

"Last year," said Eva Wingfield, her glossy curls done up in pins, "you had the distinct pleasure of being taught Defense Against the Dark Arts by a greasy-haired Death Eater."

"I like her already," said Neville.

"My name is Eva Wingfield," she said, "Order of Merlin, First Class, and former Auror. I fought in the First War, I fought for our side, and I fought for our side _only._ I fear that this year will be your first wholesome, thorough, and well-rounded experience since the one you had with Remus Lupin in your third year."

She tucked a strand of hair behind one ear as she rose. "Books away, please," she instructed, noticing Hermione's was already open. "Quills away. Wands out." She drew her own. "I'll expect you to do the reading before you come to class, so we won't cover any of that here. You're all of age now, adult enough to realize that not doing your reading means failing your N.E.W.T.'s."

Hermione brightened and straightened her robes, pulling her wand out.

"The Dementors are multiplying, and they're getting worse. They're one of Voldemort's deadliest weapons, and you need to be prepared to counter them." She pushed up the sleeves of her robes, which were lined with purple satin. "Observe. _Expecto Patronum!"_ An antelope, ethereal and glimmering, bounded through the air.

"And if I could have a volunteer?" She came around to the front of her desk. "Miss Granger, how about you?"

Hermione slid out of her chair and joined Professor Wingfield. "I don't expect you, Miss Granger, or anyone, to get it right the first time-- this is an immensely complex spell. But we're going to try. Now repeat the incantation after me-- Expecto Patronum."

Hermione flung her wand out. _"Expecto Patronum!"_ A silver otter shot out from the tip of her wand.

"Very good," she approved, impressed.

Blaise Zabini's lips twisted scornfully. "Have you got a life, or do you sit in your Muggle hovel practicing spellwork all summer?"

Crabbe made a sound somewhere between a grunt and a laugh.

"That's quite enough," Professor Wingfield snapped. "Ten points from Slytherin."

"I'm not the only one who does it!" Hermione said hotly. "Harry could manage it in our third year, and he taught most of us how to produce a Patronus in our fifth."

Eva Wingfield's eyes moved to Harry. "Is this true?"

He nodded.

"Show me."

Harry got to his feet and closed his eyes. _"Expecto Patronum!" _A stag, wavering in and out of concreteness, galloped through the room and knocked over a statue on Professor Wingfield's desk.

"Sorry," he said instantly, and urged it out the window.

Her eyes were wide. "Mr. Weasley?"

Ron produced a terrier; Parvati Patil made a unicorn, floating in wisps from the tip of her wand; Neville mustered his best rabbit.

"Miss Parkinson, can you show me yours?"

Daunted, Pansy shook her head.

"Mr. Nott?"

"No, I can't make one."

"Am I to understand," Professor Wingfield said, pacing back to Harry, "that you wouldn't teach any of the Slytherins?" A sparkle danced in her eye.

"None of them wanted to learn," Ron told her matter-of-factly.

"That's not true," said a small voice.

The entire class turned their attention to Daphne Greengrass, a mousy-looking girl with ash-brown hair in a long braid. "I didn't know what they were doing, else I'd have probably taken part."

Pansy gave her a stony glare, and she straightened her books, glancing away. "Well, Umbridge _was_ a bloody waster," she said quietly.

Several people laughed.

"Well, Miss Greengrass, perhaps the wisest thing to do would be to put you in pairs. Those of you who know how to produce a Patronus will be paired up with those who do not--" she ignored the groans of protest that went up from the class-- "and you will teach each other." She put a hand on Harry's desk. "You can pair up with Mr. Zabini, and Miss Granger, you can work with Miss Greengrass--"

"I'm not going to learn a thing from that wanking git," said Zabini contemptuously to Crabbe as he crossed his arms. "And you got the Weasel. Good luck with all that."

Crabbe made the laugh-grunt noise again and turned to Ron, who looked equally less than thrilled with the pairing.

"Right then," Harry began. "The first thing you need for a Patronus is a happy memory. Happiest one you've got."

"One time," Blaise said, a smirk on his face, "Draco's dad was at the house. He was telling my mum how he'd inadvertently started a course of action that would end in the death of the youngest Weasley. We were all overjoyed. My step-dad roasted duck in celebration."

Harry gritted his teeth. "Was that the seventh or eighth stepfather? I tend to lose track. Especially with the different ways they meet such tragic, accidental deaths."

With the air of someone who hadn't a care in the world, Zabini shrugged. "Better to have a slew of parents than none at all, hey, Potter?"

Seething, Harry raised his wand, but Hermione caught his arm. "Don't!" she hissed. "You don't need detentions to add to your troubles."

"Why are you always there?" he lamented, glaring back at Zabini, who had moved on to Pansy Parkinson. He shook free of her grip and went over to Professor Wingfield, who was helping Neville show Mark Sutler how to produce a Patronus.

"Good!" said Professor Wingfield cheerfully, as a thin yet very corporeal horse galloped from the tip of Mark's wand. "Keep practicing." She turned to Harry.

"I've lost my student," he told her apologetically, "but I had a question for you."

"What's that?"

"Hagrid brought a locket back from Knockturn Alley for me," he told her, dodging an ostrich that came from Pansy's wand. "I haven't the first clue how to-- erm, that is, I can't open it at all. I thought you might be able to help--"

"That's enough for today!" she cried suddenly over the din, her eyes growing wide, and the silvery shapes faded. Daphne's face fell-- she had managed a cloud of silver fog, and felt quite proud of herself. "Get your things, I'll see you next class." She extended her arms and shepherded them out the door. Hermione and Ron, caught in the crowd, looked over their shoulders at Harry, and Professor Wingfield shut the door behind them.

"Where is the locket?" she demanded, almost breathlessly.

Harry pulled it from around his neck and handed it over.

Immediately, she attempted to open it. She pried at it with her long, perfectly manicured fingernails, tapped it on the top of her desk, and-- "Forgive my crudeness," she said-- bit into the crevice.

Somewhat bemused by this, Harry sat down in a desk.

"It's definitely sealed by magic then," she decided, and drew her wand. "Let's try to destroy it." She attempted several spells, but none of them produced the effect she was looking for; as a last resort, she even tried the Killing Curse.

"Maybe," she muttered, "if Horace can make a potion..."

"Professor," said Harry, forcing himself not to smile, "you just tried 'Avada Kedavra' on a piece of jewelry."

She stopped, locket in hand, and stared at him for a full five seconds. "Yes," she said, as though this were perfectly logical. "Of course I did." She tapped her fingernails on her teeth for a moment, thinking. "There's nothing I can do for you." She handed the locket back to him. "Take it to Professor Slughorn. He may have an answer."

Harry felt the chain coil in his palm with a sense of cold foreboding. The last thing he wanted to do was discuss Horcruxes with Horace Slughorn.

"I'll help you," Ron offered. "You know I will. I don't care if I only scrape by on my N.E.W.T.'s. When should we start searching?"

"What are you talking about?" The tone of Hermione's voice was suspicious as she slid into her usual spot next to Ron, books in hand.

"Horcruxes," Harry said. "Trying to figure out how to destroy this locket."

"So are you going to go today?" Hermione asked Harry. "You know. Ask Professor Slughorn, and all."

Ron eyed his quiche distastefully. "Y'know," he said, before Harry had a chance to answer, "I think the house-elves here could use a lesson from the French."

"How's that?" Harry glanced up from his plate, shielding his eyes from the morning sun.

"Remember Fleur's quiche?"

Harry nodded. "Delicious."

"Delicious is an understatement," Ron said. "I have to be honest, Hermione, I hope you can cook that well." He winked at her.

She glared back. "I," she said, as if about to make a grand speech, "think we should contact Viktor." Her eyes held Harry's gaze.

"Krum!" Ron was visibly outraged. "What do you--"

"Viktor," Hermione continued, calm as can be, "graduated from Durmstrang, where they educate their students about the Dark Arts. Perhaps he can enlighten us, and suggest a way that the Horcruxes might be destroyed."

Ron's face was growing steadily redder; he had forgotten all about quiche.

"Well of course Vicky can give us all the answers," Ron scoffed, turning his nose up. "Vicky's so smart, I'm sure he's a shining academic example in his country..."

"And Phlegm," she said pointedly, "is the best chef in Europe." She angrily took her breakfast, headed Ginny off at the door, and steered her out of the Great Hall.

"Bugger," Harry said under his breath.

Ron gave him a questioning glance.

"I needed to talk to Ginny... sorry, mate. I'll see you later."

He gave him a nod and Harry ran off down the hall, making his way to Gryffindor Tower; he figured the girls were having a bit of breakfast in the commonroom. Which is why, when he passed an empty classroom, he was surprised to hear their voices.

"It's always Fleur's quiche, and Padma's ex-boyfriend, and Luna's so funny," said Hermione hotly. "He's always sticking up for someone else, or complimenting some other girl, but always forgetting me!"

Harry felt bad for lurking outside, but he felt as though he shouldn't burst in on the conversation either, so he stayed rooted to his spot.

"Have you talked to him?"

Hermione gave her a look of exasperation. "Ginny. This is your brother we are talking about..."

She laughed.

"I mean, you'd think after all these years of being around Harry, some of his behavior would have worn off. Harry's always letting you know how much he appreciates you."

Though he couldn't see her face, Harry was sure Ginny was blushing. "Yeah... he's sweet about that."

Hermione let out a puff of air. "I guess I just-- I want to feel like I'm wanted," she resolved.

"I don't think that's too much to ask," Ginny agreed.

He heard footsteps down the corridor, and bolted off down a side passageway. Making a mental note to remind Ron to pay closer attention to his girlfriend, he went off to Potions class, hoping that Slughorn would come in early and he could get this conversation out of the way.

No one was in the dungeons when Harry arrived, and it struck him that it was actually sort of peaceful there. He ambled over to where the lacewing flies were stewing in cauldrons, bent over his group's cauldron, and gave a sniff.

"Smells rotten, doesn't it?"

Harry whirled around to see Professor Slughorn shuffling through the doorway. "'Morning, sir." Today's velvet jacket was a dusty shade of blue.

"Did you know," he said, turning his nose up at the wafting scent of the insects, "that if you leave the lacewing flies for too long-- or if they get too hot-- it causes a strange side effect. The drinker of the potion will still turn into the desired individual, but he will also inherit the very angriest, most ruthless side of their personality for that hour."

The words tumbled over one another. "Professor, what do you know about Horcruxes?"

Slughorn's ruddy face turned shockingly pale. "Harry," he said haltingly, "that subject's banned-- Dark magic, evil stuff--"

"I don't want to make them," Harry reassured him, "I want to destroy them." He unclasped the chain and put the locket on the desk in front of Slughorn.

Slughorn picked it up, held it like blown glass between his clumsy fingers. "So he did it..." He spoke as if no one was in the room.

"Sir?"

He looked up. "Nothing," he said hurriedly, and Harry realized that Slughorn didn't remember giving him the memory in Hagrid's cabin last year. He had been too drunk on mead.

"Professor, I'm not going to give you a box of crystallized pineapple or promise you any connections to anyone important," Harry said flatly, before he knew the words were leaving his mouth. "I'm not Tom Riddle. I'm everything he's not. And I'm going to destroy him. Tell me, Professor. How do I destroy this?" He nodded at the little piece of silver lying between them.

It was with all the regret in the world that Horace Slughorn looked down at Harry. "I don't know," he told him dully. "I don't know. I knew the theory of creating them. But I'd never heard a thing about destroying them." He sank into his chair, defeated. "Never thought I'd be worrying about it."

"But now I have to." Harry took the chair opposite him. "You have no ideas at all?"

Slughorn shook his head. "I'm sorry, m'boy." He studied the objects on his desk, arranging quills, silent until Hermione came into the room.

"Ah! Miss Granger. You're an early arrival as well!" He pasted a smile on his face and went to greet her, leaving Harry to stew, like an over-boiled cauldron of lacewing flies.

Harry sat in front of the Pensieve, which had been moved to an unused classroom that McGonagall had put a password on. Thoughtfully, he traced the runes engraved on the side of the bowl. Hermione had suggested owling Viktor again, and he politely declined, privately thinking that if Viktor Krum came to Hogwarts, Ron would probably push him off the Astronomy Tower.

Dumbledore's memories swirled around in silver wisps, idly waiting for Harry to invite himself in. With a deep breath, Harry gripped both sides of the great stone basin and plunged his head in.

He found himself in the familiar setting of the Burrow, watching Mrs. Weasley and Albus Dumbledore bent in conversation.

"Is it true then?" Mrs. Weasley's face was pinched. "Sirius' brother has been killed?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes."

A wail went up from the corner, and Harry saw two identical cribs sitting side-by-side with two identical crying children. Their feet were nearly poking out of the bars. "Oh, hush, Fred and George," Mrs. Weasley said, rearranging their blankets.

"How are the two little darlings?" Dumbledore walked over to the cribs, curling his fingers around the rail of Fred's.

"Troublemakers," Mrs. Weasley said, hands on her hips. "Yesterday-- don't ask me how they managed it-- Bill was de-gnoming the garden, and they got a gnome into the house!"

Dumbledore chuckled. "How old are they now?"

"One and a half," said Mrs. Weasley. "But I'm not worried about them." She smiled up at Dumbledore. "They come from excellent stock."

"Ah, Molly," he said, smiling, "you have always had such faith."

Before Harry's confusion had time to properly set in, he spun out of the Burrow, and was once again sitting in front of the Pensieve. He shook his head, as if to clear the memory. "That's not what I needed," he said out loud, and plunged in once again.

This time he landed in a cold, gray room. The walls and floor were made out of stone. Dumbledore was talking to an aging, rawboned man with shaggy black hair.

"Gaunt," he was saying to the old man. "Morfin Gaunt."

"S'minute," said the old man. He went through a wooden door and came back with a small, beat-up box. "You 'is father?"

"No," Dumbledore said. "I am the Headmaster at Hogwarts."

The old man peered warily out of one beady eye, then shrugged. "Ain't nobody gonna claim it anyways," he said, wiping his nose. "Have it."

"Thank you," said Dumbledore with a small bow, "but I am only in need of one thing-- ah." He lifted Morfin's wand from the box. "Here you are."

"Ain't yeh gonna take the rest of it?"

"No," Dumbledore replied politely. "Those are his things. I will be returning his wand once I have finished with it, as well."

With an uncaring shrug, the old man made for the wooden door. "Get gone with yeh, then. Can't yeh feel the cold? The Dementors'll be comin' in soon." And he disappeared.

Tucking the wand safely in his robes, Dumbledore turned away from the door.

And once again, Harry was back in the quiet classroom.

"I need to see how he destroys it," Harry said to himself. And though he had never tried to navigate a Pensieve before, he thought about this question with all his might as he took one last plunge.

Dumbledore sat at his desk, a single candle and the dying fire providing the only light in the Headmaster's office. Holding a piece of parchment in one hand and a wand in the other, he bent over Marvolo's ring, studying it. His hand, Harry noticed, was already withered and blackened; Harry was struck with the realization that the memory of that injury could be floating around in the Pensieve, and made a mental note to search for it later.

"Yes," he said thoughtfully, rolling up the parchment; Fawkes, as if on cue, took it in his talons and dropped it in the yellow flames of the fireplace.

Dumbledore raised his wand hand. _"Animus abolesco, mortalitas exsisto!" _he said in a commanding tone.

The fire went out and the candle guttered; the whole castle seemed to quake, and Harry wondered how the whole of Hogwarts hadn't been shaken awake by this spell. Dumbledore sat calmly behind his desk, watching the ring; Harry approached the desk, as it was his wont to do in Dumbledore's office, and jumped back as the stone cracked and a green light shot out from the rent.

"One more piece of you is free, Tom," Dumbledore said quietly to the air as a tall flame engulfed the wick of the candle and the fire sprang into existence once more, licking the logs with a hungry warmth. He took the ring and, with a mien of purpose, slid it onto his finger. As he did so, Harry noticed that the wand in his hand was stamped with a strange gold rune.

Upon Harry's return to the classroom, he grabbed feverishly for the locket hanging around his neck. Setting it on a nearby desk, he pulled his wand. _"Animus abolesco, mortalitas exsisto!" _

Nothing happened.

He tried again. _"Animus abolesco, mortalitas exsisto!" _

The locket sat there, mocking him, refusing to react to the spell.

Over and over he tried, using every possible technique he could think of to make the incantation take effect. But nothing worked, and as the moon rose in the sky, he knew he had to call it a night.

Harry took out a piece of parchment. "Animus abolesco," he muttered, knowing he was spelling the incantation wrong, "mortalitas exsisto." He folded it into a square and stuck it deep in his pocket, vowing to come back to this spot every day until he could get it right.

He tiptoed through the dormitories, careful not to wake Ron, who was already sleeping. Pulling the bedclothes around him, he thought desperately of what he could be missing.

_Maybe I just need some basilisk venom,_ he thought ruefully. _That did the diary in._

Suddenly his thoughts were a flurry-- Ginny, the Chamber of Secrets, Moaning Myrtle, Draco Malfoy. _It_'_s good that Moaning Myrtle was afraid of death,_ he thought sleepily, _because she was our final clue to get down to the Chamber. And if I hadn't got to the Chamber-- Ginny would've died. _He shifted, burying his face in the pillow, looking for a comfortable position. _And then Malfoy went crying to her last year. Someone should have told her that her new best friend worked for the git who set the Basilisk on her--_

He sat bolt upright.

"Ron!"

Ron stirred from sleep and squinted at Harry, bleary-eyed. "Whassamatter?"

Harry quickly slid out of bed and into his trainers. "Ron, it's Morfin's wand!"

Ron blinked at Harry as if he'd just told him a Crumple-Horned Snorkack was in the room.

"Don't you get it?" Harry shook him, doing his best to wake him up. "I destroyed the diary from the Chamber of Secrets with the fang from the Basilisk. The Basilisk is what Riddle used to kill Myrtle. He used Myrtle's murder to create the diary." Frantically, he made a circular motion with his hands. "It's a circle. To destroy the Horcrux, I have to have the murder weapon." He let out a breath. "I feel like Hermione."

Slightly more awake, Ron pointed at the locket. "So what about that?"

"Well-- I dunno," Harry said honestly, "but look. He murdered his dad and his grandparents with his uncle's wand. I just saw a memory where Dumbledore destroyed a Horcrux with a wand-- maybe it wasn't his own. Maybe he used Morfin Gaunt's wand."

Ron's head was spinning. "So..."

"He has two murders with Morfin's wand left to use for Horcruxes, if he wanted to," Harry explained. "What if this is one?"

"But--" Ron yawned-- "I thought you said he only made them for important murders? Why would Myrtle and his grandparents have been important murders?"

Harry sat down on the side of Ron's bed. "Dunno," he said. "Maybe Myrtle was important because he was proving he was the Heir of Slytherin."

"That makes sense. But his grandparents?"

"Dunno. But it's worth a shot, isn't it?"

"Where's Morfin's wand?"

"Dunno."

"What do you know?"

"Dumbledore left me the contents of his office, and McGonagall can let me look through it."

Ron saw he had put on his shoes. "And you're going now?"

"Why not?"

Harry strode down the corridors, wand aloft and lit, not knowing exactly how he was going to reach Professor McGonagall. Surely she didn't stay awake in her office all night long. But upon reaching the gargoyle, he heard a loud wail.

"Ah, Minerva, but of course zis means everything!"

And Harry knew that Madame Maxime had come to pay her last respects to Hagrid.

"I think that the house-elf has come with our mead," Professor McGonagall said. "It must be Dobby. He never comes right in..." But when she came to check, she found a very mute yet urgent young man. "Potter! What are you doing here at this hour?"

"Professor," he said evenly, "in Professor Dumbledore's letter he said he'd left everything to me--"

"That could be of use, yes," she said. "But what could you possibly need now?"

"A wand," he told her. "Morfin Gaunt's wand."

Her jaw dropped slightly. "So you've--"

"I think so."

She shooed him into the room and immediately began rummaging through boxes.

Harry stood, nonplussed, as Madame Maxime looked up at him with mournful eyes. "'Agrid spoke of you so much," she said tearfully. "You were so dear to him."

"I'm going to miss him too," Harry said.

"Is this it?" Professor McGonagall held up a wand.

"Let me see." Harry held out his hand and examined it. The handle boasted a gold stamp.

"What is zis?" Madame Maxime looked from Harry to Professor McGonagall.

"Just wait," said Professor McGonagall excitedly, as Harry pulled the necklace from his shirt and set it on her desk. "Hold on," he warned them, as he pointed the wand at the locket and dug the scrap of parchment from his pocket. _"Animus abolesco, mortalitas exsisto!" _

"Minerva?" Madame Maxime's voice came out in a frightened wail. "What--"

Harry gripped the side of the desk. The locket lifted off the surface and hung in the air-- the fire extinguished itself, and Professor McGonagall let out a little gasp.

The windows clattered, and Harry was sure the castle was going to come right off the foundations. Just as he was about to lay down the wand, the locket burst open and a bullet of brilliant green light soared from between the two halves, disappearing into thin air. The castle settled, and the fire came back.

"Good 'eavens, Minerva, I 'ave never--" Madame Maxime's opal-ringed hand covered her heart, which was racing. "What just happened?"

But Professor McGonagall was almost unaware of Madame Maxime's existence as she let go of the windowsill and crossed the room. "Can you... open it?"

Harry picked up the locket; it fell open quite easily in his hands, revealing two wedding photos.

"Who are they?" she asked, peering over his shoulder.

"Merope Gaunt and Tom Riddle Senior; those, on the right, Riddle's parents."


	10. Chapter 10

It was unseasonably cold for late October, and the sharp wind howled through the desolate treetops. The remaining leaves on the tall maples gleamed dully in the moonlight as cloaked figures gathered in the thickly wooded forest.

"Lucius," said a large man with heavily-lidded eyes. He made a small bow.

"Goyle," came the demure return.

"I hear," said Goyle with a trace of a triumphant smile, "that your son has left us."

Lucius paused briefly. "I have no son."

"Gregory," Goyle said with an air of superiority, "has been accepted into the Dark Lord's service."

He forced the corner of his mouth into a point. "Let us hope," he said smoothly, "that Gregory has not inherited any of his father's ways, and will be disposed to face battle when the time comes?" With a slight incline of his head, he turned from Goyle and walked away.

Voldemort swept majestically into the clearing in robes of fog and mist, like he was wearing the vesture of a Dementor. "My loyal friends," he said, half-mockingly, his pointed teeth bared in a satiric smile. "You continue to please me with your allegiance. However--" His smile vanished into a concerned frown-- "there are those who, as of late, have... abandoned me." He looked at Lucius as he said this, and Lucius cast his gaze at the ground.

"I have... disposed of Lucius' wife," Voldemort continued smoothly, "and next, young Draco will be killed." His eyes glowed red, hungry at the prospect of death.

"But on the other hand, there are those of you who are unwaveringly loyal. Velos," he said, indicating a pale man of about thirty with piercing blue eyes, "has brought me a gift."

Peter Pettigrew, hunched and chattering to himself, unveiled a man who was tied to a tree, struggling in a menagerie of ropes.

Bellatrix's eyes flickered. "Ollivander?" she whispered, her voice low and hoarse.

His eyes widened. "Hag!" he spat. His hair stuck out in wayward shocks, white and frazzled. "Bat!"

She turned her wand on him.

"Not yet, Bellatrix!" Voldemort warned. "But if he doesn't speak-- you will get your chance."

Seemingly satisfied with this, she backed off, keeping a sharp eye on the old man.

"You should have known we would find you," Voldemort said evenly, circling Ollivander, who was visibly shaken. "You fake your own kidnapping, ransack your own shop... and then to be so idiotic as to go back to Hogsmeade..." He clucked his tongue. "Not only did Velos get to rid us of that ridiculous oaf, he brought you to me."

"Y-you won't get it," Ollivander said, nervous yet firm. "You do anything you want, but I won't tell you where it is."

Voldemort grinned, baring his teeth, and shot up to Ollivander's face. "Oh, I don't know about that. We can start nice; yes, we can start nice. But if you fight--"

Bellatrix's face broke out into a smile; she twirled her wand in her fingertips.

"Severus?" Voldemort said.

Snape flitted out of the darkness in full black robes and silver mask, grasping a tiny vial in his left hand. He jerked the cork out, threw it on the ground, forced Ollivander's mouth open, and dumped the liquid down his throat.

The smile that had been etched on Bellatrix's bony face vanished when she saw Snape appear from the shadows. "What is he doing here?" she demanded of the air. She turned to Voldemort. "My Lord, I thought--"

"Silence," he commanded, holding up a hand. "I trust Severus, Bellatrix."

She opened her mouth to protest, but Voldemort cut her off. "We have spoken. You do not need to know what we have spoken of-- but I trust him, and that should be good enough for you."

Snape sneered at her as he passed, and it took every ounce of self-control she possessed not to kill him. The hate ran in her veins, penetrating her very being, but she turned away from him, back to Ollivander.

"Tell me," Voldemort said, turning his attention back to the wand-maker, "where is the wand?"

Ollivander said nothing.

"Where is the wand?" repeated Voldemort patiently.

He wriggled in his bounds, and his Dark Mark became visible beneath the rip in his long sleeves. "You'll have to do better than truth potion," he said condescendingly.

Voldemort smiled. "That we can. Bellatrix?"

A sadistic gleam in her eyes, she stepped up to Ollivander, taking time to choose her angle. _"Crucio!"_ she shrieked. His knees buckled, but the bounds held him up; she cackled maniacally, savoring the old man's pain. Her eyes were telltale signs; she fed off the agony like it was nature's most nourishing meal.

"Stop," Voldemort commanded, and she did. He approached Ollivander. "Now," he said, in a liquidlike voice, "what have you to say about that wand?"

There was defiance in the old man's eyes as he stared back into the red ones of the Dark Lord. "Nothing," he grunted.

Voldemort nodded to Bellatrix.

_"Crucio!"_ She held her left hand aloft, as if controlling the pain, her wand pointed as an instrument of precision at the twitching figure. Ollivander screamed, a wretched sound that pierced the night, and Voldemort cut her off yet again.

"Tell me where it is."

Ollivander retched. "No," he gasped. "I will not."

Voldemort nodded, as if communicating his great understanding. "Very well then." He wrapped his long, bony fingers around his wand, and held it to Ollivander's forehead. "One last chance, old man."

Ollivander swallowed hard and closed his eyes.

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

Ollivander hung limp, his hair ruffled by the breeze, and the Death Eaters turned away from him as though he were nothing but a squashed bug.

"And that," Voldemort said softly, "is what happens when my followers desert me."

The Death Eaters were hushed into silence. Everyone glanced at Lucius, who didn't seem to notice-- or care about-- the implications of what Voldemort had just said.

"I have bigger priorities," Voldemort began, "than hunting Lucius' son. One of you will do it for me."

Bellatrix had hunger in her eyes again. "Allow me, my Lord. I will make sure he pays dearly for his treason."

"No," Voldemort said flatly, and his eyes landed on Severus Snape. "I want you to do it."

Snape bowed his head. "Of course, my Lord."

"Do you know where to find him?"

"I brought him to a house in Hogsmeade after we escaped Hogwarts," Snape said easily. "He may yet be there. If not-- well, the boy's not very wise. He may try and return home to Malfoy Manor."

"In which case," Lucius snarled, "I will kill him myself."

Voldemort approached Lucius. "I have my own death to deliver," he said, "and the wand to find."

Lucius nodded. "I will oversee things," he replied. "And hopefully soon, we will be back in place at the Ministry."

Voldemort acknowledged the short, plump Death Eater standing next to them. "You have been away."

She made a deep bow. "You know I have been doing work for you, my Lord."

"It is important to have spies."

"I do my best." Another bow. "We are well-connected now. Scrimgeour is making changes. It is time to move ahead."

"Then go on with it." He backed up to address the entire group. "I must take my leave."

As Voldemort disappeared into thin air, Nagini and Pettigrew by his side, the female Death Eater turned to Lucius.

"Shame about Draco."

Lucius gave a careless shrug. "He had no sense of duty."

"He needed discipline."

"His mother saw to it that he got none."

She knew one thing that would provide comfort. "She's gone now."

A small, wicked grin slithered onto Lucius' lips. "Isn't that the beautiful truth?"


	11. Chapter 11

"I can't believe they're still allowing us to come to Hogsmeade," Hermione said, wrapping her scarf around herself to guard from the biting late-autumn wind.

Ron put an arm around her. "Three Broomsticks?" he suggested.

"Let's," Hermione agreed. They pushed their way into the crowded little pub and found a table for the four of them.

"It's not cleared," Ginny said with disgust.

"Rosmerta will get it," Harry assured her. He absently picked up the copy of the _Daily Prophet_ lying on the table and scanned the front page. "Hey!" He sat up in his chair. "Look at this!"

Ginny took the paper from his hands. "Ministry of Magic Frees Suspects," she read. "Several individuals who have been arrested on suspicions of Death Eater activity, including Knight Bus conductor Stan Shunpike, have been released. "The Ministry of Magic acknoledges their mistake in detaining these witches and wizards, and apologizes for the major inconveniences we have caused them," said Minister of Magic Rufus Scrimgeour in a statement Monday afternoon."

Hermione was awed.

"So they've done something right for once." Ron smiled up at Madam Rosmerta as she set a butterbeer in front of him.

Ginny's face was pinched. "A trade?"

Harry snorted. "I'm glad they let Stan go, but if Scrimgeour thinks that will draw me in..."

Taking a sip of her butterbeer, Hermione watched Harry carefully. "At least it's a noble try," she pointed out. "Maybe he's just trying to clear up Fudge's mistakes."

Settling back into his chair, Harry pondered this. "I'm not going to be their poster child."

"They'd be lucky to get a Blast-Ended Skrewt for a mascot," Ginny said adamantly, taking a pull off her bottle and slamming it on the table to punctuate her sentence. When she looked up, she met three suppressed smiles. "What?"

A laugh escaped Ron's lips. "I can picture Scrimgeour in a Skrewt's pincer, dangling in the air, screaming to a horde of onlookers-- 'Don't worry folks, my close personal friend Harry Potter will be along in a minute to save me... don't you worry...'"

They laughed.

"We should go to Fred and George's," Ginny suggested excitedly. "I haven't been to their new shop yet."

"That's right," Harry said, remembering. "They opened up a place in Hogsmeade, didn't they?"

Ginny nodded enthusiastically. "And they've invented some sort of packaging," she told him, "that will be able to get past Filch's sensors."

Hermione groaned, but Ron and Harry got to their feet. "Let's go!"

"Should clear the table," Ron mentioned, almost as an afterthought. "Rosmerta's really busy in here today." He scooped up the bottles and, on the way out, deposited them in the trash.

Ginny led the way down the streets of Hogsmeade, past Zonko's, which was uncharacteristically empty, and down to a tiny little shop which was packed full of eager Hogwarts students, their pockets full of Sickles to spend on tricks and other amusements.

"Wow," whistled Ginny, standing on her tiptoes. "I dunno if we'll even be able to get in."

Hermione tilted her head back. "It looks like it's going to rain soon, too." She nestled into her scarf. "I didn't bring a coat-- I don't want to walk back in the rain."

"We'll be fast," Ron assured her, and ducked between two fourth-year Ravenclaws who were discussing what they were going to name their Pygmy Puffs once they purchased them.

"Extendable Ears," Harry said, digging into a bin. "I've exhausted my supply." He grabbed a few.

Ron grinned back from behind a display of Skiving Snackboxes. "Go on ahead," he said. "I've had enough of Slughorn's class already. I'll need some of these come N.E.W.T. time-- best stock up now."

Harry laughed and joined Ginny, who was looking at Pygmy Puffs. "You have one," he reminded her with a smile.

"I know," she said, poking her finger into their cage. "But they're so cute... and Arnold gets lonely sometimes, don't you think?"

"You're cute." He kissed her on the cheek and went to check out the shelves full of quills. "Hey, Ron--" he held up a new, deluxe Self-Inking Quill. "You should get one for Hermione."

"She'd like that, wouldn't she?" Ron came over to Harry and examined it, then after looking at the price, quickly set it back on the shelf.

"Don't worry about it, mate," Harry said, and slipped some gold into his pocket.

Ron scowled at him. "Harry..."

"She'll like it," Harry reaffirmed, and handed him the quill.

Grudgingly, Ron took it.

"C'mon, guys," Ginny said, appearing at their side with a handful of items. "Let's go."

They paid for their items-- a nice young witch named Nickie assisted them-- and when Harry asked where the twins were, she blushingly responded that "George and his brother are at the shop in Diagon Alley."

When they got outside, Hermione was waiting for them on a bench. "Ready?" she said brightly.

"I got you something," Ron told her immediately, and pulled the quill from the bag.

Hermione turned it over in her hands. "I love it!" She beamed and gave him a quick hug. "Thank you."

"Well-- Harry and I got it for you," he stammered.

"Oh," she said, and turned to Harry. "Thank you, too, then."

"No problem," Harry said automatically, privately wishing that Ron would recognize when to shelve his selflessness.

"Shall we go then?" Hermione handed the quill back to Ron. "You should tuck that back into your bag so it doesn't get wet." She pointed at the sky. "It looks pretty ominous."

Ginny grinned and pulled at Ron's sleeve. "Race you!"

Ron took off running after his sister.

Halfway down the path, after Harry and Hermione had finally caught up and the siblings had slowed down, Harry looked at Ginny. "And what was that all about?"

"We used to race all the time when we were little," Ginny replied, laughing.

"And who would always win?" The corners of Ron's mouth were turned up in a smug smile.

"Me," Ginny boasted. "I was the fastest."

"Oh, no." He socked her with his bag of tricks. "I crossed the finish line before you nearly every time."

Hermione and Harry smiled at each other, watching them banter back and forth.

"Almost makes me sad that I don't have a brother," Hermione said ruefully, and a big raindrop hit her square in the nose.

Harry looked up, and a drop of water landed on his glasses. He looked back at Hermione, who was positively cringing at the thought of getting wet. "Race you!" he said, and shot off down the path.

Squealing, she took off after him.

On the very edge of Hogsmeade, at the base of the great mountain, stood a thick and tall tree. No one knew exactly how long it had grown there, but it had been left untouched by the inhabitants of the village for years, who were in awe of its great long life and the beautiful shade of red that its leaves turned in autumn.

It was this tree that Draco Malfoy had chose to blast at with his wand, creating a grotto in the trunk just big enough to hide himself in. He covered the opening with fallen boughs, and when he slept at night, he slept sitting up.

The first few days in his tree-cave had been spent thinking, and ultimately falling asleep in the process. Soon he was so rested that he became restless, and he decided to go explore a little. He stuck to the area immediately around the tree and saw that there was no immediate threat of being discovered; once he had figured this out, he became a hunter. With well-aimed Killing Curses, he slaughtered his meals and roasted them over fires started with the help of _Incendio._ Mostly his meals consisted of rabbit-- he got a few deer as summer waned, and a pheasant once, though he mainly kept his curses to the ground, not wanting to attract the attention.

He bathed only when it rained, with no soap, and washed his clothes in the same crude way-- hanging them from the tree branches in stormy weather, then wringing them out and laying them flat on the ground when the sun came out, always careful not to give any signal that there was someone living in the tall tree. And always, nearly five minutes after he was dry, he was covered in dirt and sweat again. God, how he loathed this existence.

But he liked hunting, and killed more animals than he needed, simply because it took his mind off everything else. When he was tracking a rabbit, he was momentarily distracted from the fact that Voldemort was really, at the same time, tracking _him_. He supposed it was all the same, and he'd die sooner or later. But, he thought, shedding his grubby Slytherin tie and fastening a knot around the second dead rabbit's neck, better later.

Upon arriving back home-- he thought of the cave as "home" now-- he was alarmed to see that his small cache of herbs had been stolen. He was tired of having plain, unseasoned meat, and blamed this injustice on the rabbits. As he unknotted his day's take, he made up his mind to kill each and every rabbit that inhabited Hogsmeade.

Later that day, Draco sat down in the dimming sunlight with his evening meal. He was having duck tonight-- a delicacy that he had killed when the animal had been unfortunate enough to land outside his tree. As he sprinkled what meager herbs he'd rescued over the meat, he found himself longing for the Yorkshire pudding they always ate with their duck at home. His mother never let the house-elves prepare it. "They never do it right," she would say, turning her nose up at them, and flounce into the kitchen herself, tying a big apron around her black satin robes. She'd bark out orders-- "Dobby, get the flour!"-- and the whole kitchen would break their backs to help her with her task.

He smiled fondly and looked down at his duck.

Outside, a stick snapped, and he was shaken out of his reverie. Immediately, his guard went up; he set his food down and drew his wand.

"Come on, Asra!" The voice was entreating and familiar.

The girl addressed as Asra giggled. "I just want to see this tree, Dean!" Leaves crunched beneath her feet as she ran up to it.

_Dean Thomas,_ Draco thought. _And a girlfriend, maybe?_

"C'mon." Dean's voice was closer now.

"It's pretty, isn't it?" A pause. "Look at how red the leaves are. Like apples."

"It's not an apple tree."

"I know. I just said the leaves were red like apples."

"Take one back with you," Dean suggested. "Dry it."

"I can't reach!" An eruption of girlish giggles. "I'm much too short, Dean."

"There are plenty on the ground."

"Oh, but..."

"Look... here's one that's perfect."

"Oh, all right." Another pause. "Actually, that one is perfect."

"Let's get back down to the village; they'll be worried about us."

"You worry too much."

More snaps and crunches, and echoes of Dean and Asra's lighthearted argument; finally the sounds faded, and Draco was quite sure he was alone again.

_Hogsmeade weekend,_ thought Draco, and imagined what all his classmates were doing in the village. Surely they would be at Zonko's, and the couples would be cozy in Madam Puddifoot's, and some of them would be enjoying butterbeers in the Three Broomsticks...

He looked down at his unevenly roasted duck. There was nothing for it. Looping the bloody tie around his neck, he kept low and out of sight, and headed toward the castle.

"Yorkshire pudding," Hermione said, pleased, as the dishes filled with food.

Ginny wrinkled her nose.

"My mum," Hermione explained, spooning some onto her plate, "would make it every Sunday."

Harry and Ron both went straight for the roast.

"You know," Harry began, "isn't it odd that Voldemort--"

But he never got to finish his sentence, because at that moment, the door to the Great Hall swung open with a bang, and in strode the last person Harry ever expected to see at Hogwarts again. A hush fell over the students.

"And just what the bloody hell are you doing here?" Ron said out loud.

Draco did not look at him, did not give any sign that he had even heard Ron's outburst.

"How can he even show his face at this school?" demanded Harry. He gripped his knife as if he might fling it at Draco at any moment.

Draco walked calmly down the row, ignoring the murmurs and whispers surrounding him. His shirt and trousers were in tatters, his robes left in a heap in Filch's trash. His face was scratched where brush and animals' claws had reached for him; his tie and shirt were stained with blood, and his once-immaculate hair was matted and filthy. Pansy Parkinson looked as though she might faint dead away from either grief or repulsion.

Several of the first-years asked their elders who the disheveled boy was.

"That's Draco Malfoy," Pansy told Gisela. "He's a Slytherin legend."

"Draco Malfoy," Luna said airily to Melody Salpeter. "He's an attempted murderer."

Melody inched closer to the table.

Draco approached the head table and bent his head to speak to Professor McGonagall. Harry inclined his head, as if that would help him hear. McGonagall, her lips pinched into a thin line, rose hurriedly from the table and beckoned for him to follow her. He did.

Immediately, Harry got to his feet.

"Where are you going?" demanded Hermione.

"Where do you think?" And he was off.

He ran up to his dormitory, fished a pair of Extendable Ears out of the bag from the twins' joke shop, seized his Invisibility Cloak, and raced to McGonagall's office. He pressed one end of the Ears against the door.

"...I didn't have anywhere else to go," Draco was saying.

"You say Severus was in Hogsmeade?"

"Yeah. But I wish you wouldn't go looking for him."

"Draco, he killed Professor Dumbledore."

"Yeah, and I tried, didn't I? How come I haven't been arrested on the spot?"

"Because it was one of Professor Dumbledore's last wishes in the weeks before his death. He felt you would be safe here."

There was a long moment of silence. Harry pressed up to the wall, afraid he might be missing something.

"Do you think he'd really have let me kill him?" Draco's voice was small.

"I cannot say," Professor McGonagall told him. "I only know that Professor Dumbledore did not want death for anyone. But I am quite sure he would have put himself in danger to save three others."

Draco stared at the floor. "Voldemort murdered my mum," he said quietly.

"I'm sorry," said Professor McGonagall.

"Right in front of me."

"Oh..."

"My dad watched. He let it happen. He didn't care." A tear slid down his cheek; he tried to hide it, but it left a clean streak on his filthy face.

"Malfoy--"

"And Snape..." He broke off.

She snapped to attention. "What about Severus?"

He decided that he'd rather keep that information to himself. "Nothing," he lied.

"Where is he?"

"I can't tell you."

"You don't know?"

"No." He paused. "And even so, I have a certain loyalty to him." He straightened in his chair, and for his ratty appearance, he retained plenty of the old Malfoy poise.

"He's a murderer," Professor McGonagall said tensely.

A familiar voice filled the air. "Let the boy have his loyalties, Minerva." A slight pause. "I have mine."


	12. Chapter 12

"Dolores Umbridge," Ron said flatly as he slid into a seat next to Hermione in Transfiguration.

Harry glanced around himself, half-expecting to see her. "What?"

"That pink-frocked toad--" (Hermione stifled a laugh)-- "is being considered for the post of Advisor to the Minister of Magic."

Harry's face fell. "If she gets in there again--"

Tonks appeared behind them, pink hair blazing. "Ron... go on, tell them who else is up for the post!"

Ron grinned. "My dad."

"Really?" Harry's eyes grew wide.

"Ridiculous, innit?" He toyed with his wand. "Mum just sent an owl. I guess Scrimgeour's impressed with his work ethic, or something..." He broke off, mumbling, but he was flushed, and Harry could tell he was very proud of his father.

"Good for him," Hermione said supportively, brandishing her new Self-Inking Quill as she prepared to take notes.

"Yeah. And Bill is off somewhere, Mum didn't say where, but I assume it must be Order business, and Fleur too-- she went back to France with Madame Maxime."

"Maxime?" Harry said. "She didn't stay here long."

"She's right hacked off," Ron said, "obviously. Maybe she's bringing back an army of giant women to fight against You-Know-Who..."

Harry smiled.

"Alright. I thought we'd start off today with a review of what we did yesterday." When no one said anything, Tonks smiled brightly and turned her nose into a beak. "Beginning stages of human Transfiguration."

Several students laughed and got to work. Within moments, Parvati had managed apeish lips; Lavender was howling with laughter.

"Look at him," Hermione said, lowering her voice. She nodded at Draco, who was at a table by himself. "Odd, isn't it?"

"Odd?"

Harry nodded. "Used to seeing him flanked by Crabbe and Goyle."

"Now Crabbe won't even be seen around him," Ron said disdainfully.

"I had Ancient Runes with him earlier," Hermione remarked, "and he didn't talk to anyone there either. Not even Pansy."

"So he's a git," said Ron impatiently. "Why are we wasting our time worrying about it? Here, Hermione, let's give you a great furry face..." He pointed his wand at her and she pushed it away with a smile.

Hermione glanced at Harry. "I wonder if it's because of his mother." She shook her head in disbelief. "I can't believe Voldemort would have threatened to kill his parents-- and then kill his mother even though he... well, he did what he was meant to do."

He shrugged. "Guess he can share something with Neville and Susan and me now."

"I almost feel sorry for him." She paused, noticing Ron's death glare. "But not quite."

"He's a wanking git," Ron stated firmly, "and deserved everything he got. Including his mum dying."

"Ronald Weasley!" Hermione flushed. "That's awful!"

A crash sounded from the hallway, and Tonks turned from showing Pansy some wand techniques.

"Wonder what that was?" Tonks said.

Ron smiled. "You forgotten about Peeves?"

Tonks gave him a half-smile and marched to the back of the classroom, peeking her head out the door. There was another loud bang, and a chorus of screams.

Shutting the door fast behind her, Tonks held herself against it and looked back at her students, who all stared back at her, wide-eyed and frightened.

"What is it?" Harry finally said.

"Goblins," Tonks said, and Harry noticed a chunk of her hair had been burnt off.

"Tonks..."

She reached up and felt the section of hair. "At least it didn't hit me," she said with a nervous smile.

Parvati, still sporting big, thick lips, was ready to cry. "What do we do?" she wailed, while Hermione kindly returned her lips to normal size.

_"Colloportus," _Tonks said, sealing the doors, and swept into action. "We need to get you hidden," she said immediately, her tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth as she searched for a good place.

"In here," she said, pointing at one of the cabinets in the back.

"But Professor," Pansy complained, "it's tiny!"

"Oh, be quiet," said Tonks impatiently, and cast a spell. "Now go!"

Reluctantly, Pansy climbed in, and found herself in a large log cabin. Her classmates followed.

"Harry?"

"I'm not going."

Tonks looked round at Ron and Hermione, who stood their ground beside him. "Fine," she said, knowing it was useless to argue, "but don't blame me for what Molly says to the three of you when this is all done." She was about to shut the door when she noticed there was another student who hadn't joined his classmates.

"Draco?" she said, approaching him. "Get in, why don't you?"

His sullen glare met her eager, helpful eyes. "I don't think goblins are any harder to kill than deer," he said steadily.

"Goblins will hex you back," Tonks reminded him, ignoring the reference that she didn't understand.

"Only as good as a half-breed could," came his sour response.

There was nothing for it. Tonks shut the door of the cabinet.

The doors of the classroom shook. Harry prayed that the goblins wouldn't be smart enough to realize that there should be a whole class. He didn't want them to go searching for the rest of his classmates.

Another shake, then--_ "Alohomora!" _With a blast of light, the doors came crashing open, and a flood of armoured goblins burst into the room, their helmets glinting in the pale sunlight.

The one in the front laughed. "This ought to be easy," he said condescendingly.

Draco's eyes blazed. _"Avada Kedavra!"_

And just as soon as the captain had spoken, he had fallen to the ground. There was a murmur through the rest of them.

"Didn't count on a fine, upstanding Hogwarts scholar having enough hate running through his veins to use an Unforgivable Curse?" he yelled, brandishing his wand at the group of them.

A couple of the goblins nearer the back turned and ran down the hall.

"Draco," Tonks began.

But as the others ran, another goblin spoke up. "It's not like you've never seen death before," he growled, his dark, slanted eyes glowing like veiled fireflies. "Get rid of them."

A battle cry went up from the lot, and several of them pulled finely-made silver swords from scabbards.

Ron gulped. "Does _Expelliarmus_ work against those?"

_"Stupefy!" _Hermione yelled, with a mind to Stun as many of them as she could before their weapons could do any damage. _"Stupefy!"_

Following her example, Harry managed to Stun one goblin before he found a sabre slicing through his robes and into his back. He turned, wincing in pain. _"Stupefy!"_

Tonks took out several goblins, immobilizing them deftly with well-aimed curses. She was considerably less clumsy in battle than in everyday life, Harry noticed.

_"Reducto!" _yelled Hermione, reducing one of the swords to the size of a quill. She grinned at the approaching goblin, who threw his weapon to the ground in disgust.

"Brilliant," Ron said approvingly, and in that second, a goblin slashed into his leg. Blood spurted from the wound. He cried out, and as he fell to his knees, another one thrust a sword through his shoulder.

_"Sectumsempra!" _shrieked Hermione, and at hearing her use the spell she'd been so against, Harry turned to see her standing over the goblin, wand hand trembling. _"Sectumsempra!" _

"Hermione," he said. "Hermione, stop..." He went to her-- she was sobbing, watching the goblin drown in his own blood.

Draco Malfoy pushed Harry out of the way. _"Avada Kedavra!" _In a flash of green light, he put the goblin out of his misery. The throng of goblins was thinning considerably.

"Ron?" Hermione dropped to her knees.

Tonks turned and saw Ron. "He needs Madam Pomfrey. Hermione?"

Hermione bobbed her head and ran out of the room, Stunning goblins as she went. There were only five of them left by the time Hermione escaped into the hallway, and Tonks was giving orders. "We're taking at least one prisoner," she said. "Harry, you make sure they stay away from Ron. Draco--"

"Incarcerous!" yelled Draco, binding a rushing goblin in ropes. He pulled the sword out of his hand and vanished it with his wand, then dragged him by his bounds to Tonks' feet. "Here."

A pair of goblins came forward to free their friend, and Tonks shot them down with jets of red light; Harry took care of the remaining goblins and joined her.

Tonks seized the goblin by his bounds. "What's your name?"

The goblin glared at her. His pointed nose twitched irritably.

Draco kicked at his leg. "Name!"

"Zubnok."

"Why have you come to Hogwarts?"

Silence.

Putting his wand to the goblin's temple, Draco issued a final threat. "Don't think I'm afraid to use the Unforgivables."

"Draco," Tonks admonished, "I forbid you to."

He ignored her. "I'm not listening to her," he said to the goblin. "I'll use the Cruciatus Curse."

The goblin looked from Draco to Tonks.

"Draco!"

"The Dark Lord sent us," said Zubnok.

"Goblins have joined with Voldemort?" Tonks' eyes flashed.

"He has promised us--" he coughed. "He has promised that he will give us rights. Everything that you deny us."

Draco laughed bitterly.

"What are you talking about?" asked Tonks.

But Harry knew. He remembered the Fountain of Magical Brethren with the goblin gazing adoringly at the wizard. "You haven't been treated very well," he conceded, and Zubnok snapped his head around. "But Voldemort wants nothing but murder. You're only pawns to him."

A scornful smile crossed the goblin's face. "And you're the mouthpiece of the other side," he pronounced. "Their hero." He made a gurgling sound in his throat. "Tell me-- what is it that you have to offer us?"

Harry paused, a little taken aback.

"Not all of us fight for free."

At that moment, Madam Pomfrey burst in with Hermione, Filch and Professor Slughorn.

"Oh, dear," said Madam Pomfrey at once, and magicked up a stretcher. "Help me get him on there, would you?"

Harry and Slughorn picked Ron up, who was slipping in and out of consciousness, while Hermione fretted at their side.

"Wouldn't a levitating spell be better?" she said worriedly, peering over to check on his wounds.

"Not in this case," Madam Pomfrey said. "Now come, follow me up to the hospital wing."

Harry and Slughorn hefted the stretcher; Hermione kept right alongside it, her fingers gripping the blood-stained canvas.

"You've got one here?" Filch said to Tonks.

"Yes. Maybe you ought to take him up to see the Headmistress."

Filch wrested the goblin to his feet. "Have you cracked him yet?"

Tonks nodded.

"Shame," he said ruefully. "Thought I might have been able to torture him a bit." Grabbing him by the back of the neck, he dragged him to the door.

"Just so you know," Draco called to the goblin, "the Dark Lord doesn't always keep his bloody promises. Maybe you ought to keep that in mind before you do his dirty work for him."

Tonks stared down at her student, watching as he nonchalantly wiped the blood off his face and strolled out of the classroom.


	13. Chapter 13

"Morning, sunshine," Ginny jested as Ron stirred from sleep.

"Ginny," Ron yawned. "How long have I been asleep?"

"About five hours," Hermione answered, dipping a rag in cool water. She wrung it out and laid it across his forehead.

His eyes followed the cloth. "What's that for?"

"You've got a fever," she told him. "You're getting sick."

"Thought I was just hurt." Opening his eyes a bit wider, he looked down at his dressings; his shoulder and his leg were both wrapped in clean white bandages. "Did you get the little git that did it?" He looked expectantly at Harry.

"Well..." Harry shuffled his feet. "Malfoy actually killed him."

Ron sank back into his pillow. "Sodding git. I don't want him defending me."

"If it's any consolation," Hermione said, "I don't think he was doing it for you. I just think he wanted to kill as many living things as possible."

"Mum came by earlier," Ginny told him. "She'll be back in an hour or so."

"Any messages from her? Like, you should have let the goblin kill you because now I'm going to do it instead?" He smiled weakly.

"No, just--" Ginny shared an uneasy glance with Harry. "She told us that the goblin population is split."

"Split?"

"Apparently Bill's trying to win more of them over," she explained, "but a lot of them have joined Voldemort."

"Bloody hell."

"Some of them are still against him, though."

Hermione sighed. "So," she said, "I hear we missed McGonagall's big announcement in the Great Hall."

"What's that?" Ron wanted to know.

"Hogwarts is having a Christmas ball," she told him, "before we let out for the holidays."

"If you think I'm going..."

"Just wear your normal school robes this time, Ron," Harry advised, and they all laughed, remembering his disastrous fashion statement from the Yule Ball.

"Ha ha," said Ron, but he smiled.

"Slughorn's going to be in charge of it," Hermione said. "Maybe he'll get the Weird Sisters to come... you know, since he's on such personal terms with them."

"There's something really outrageous about the Weird Sisters in here this issue," Ginny said, pulling out a copy of The Quibbler from her school things. "Aha. Lead singer of Weird Sisters: You-Know-Who in Disguise?"

Ron grabbed it from her, scanning headlines, and stifled a laugh. "According to Luna's father, Scrimgeour is under the Imperius Curse. The evidence for this is the "uncharacteristically decent decisions" he has made lately."

Harry laughed.

"Oh, and here-- apparently all four of the founders have living descendants and three are at Hogwarts right now." Ron covered the article with his hand. "Bet you anything he says Harry is Gryffindor's descendant."

Hermione took a peek. "Not at all... no names. You lost."

Madam Pomfrey came over at that moment, waving her arms at them. "Out with you," she said. "He needs his rest."

"My mum'll be back," Ginny protested.

"Then you stay, Miss Weasley, and we shall wake him up when she arrives." She turned to Harry and Hermione. "Scoot!"

They scooted.

"It's not like we wouldn't let him sleep if he wanted to," Hermione grumbled. "Besides, he's been asleep for hours." They shuffled down the hall in silence. "Have you found anything else out about the Horcruxes?"

Harry shook his head. "I've been back to look at the Pensieve, but I haven't found anything helpful."

"Isn't there a way to call up certain memories?"

Harry shrugged. "If there is, I don't know how to do it."

"I'll look it up."

"Hermione, you haven't got time. How many N.E.W.T.'s are you taking?"

"Enough," she said dismissively. "Don't forget, we have that Transfiguration essay to finish."

"Right."

"But you've figured out how to destroy them, then."

Harry nodded. "That's the problem, though."

"Problem?" Hermione was confused.

"Well... when you murder it rips your soul, and then you can put those pieces into items, making them Horcruxes."

"Right."

"So d'you remember the diary? I'm betting that it was created when Riddle murdered Myrtle. And his weapon of choice..."

"The basilisk."

"And when I stabbed the diary with the basilisk fang, the piece of Riddle's soul was destroyed." He paused. "So to destroy the Horcrux, you need to use the murder weapon used in the murder that created the Horcrux. Do you understand?"

"You have no idea how many murders he committed," Hermione said matter-of-factly, "or by what means he committed them."

"Dumbledore said that he would have made Horcruxes from his 'important' murders," Harry said to her. "But don't you think Voldemort would have, say, killed some of those people with his own wand?"

"So you'll have to go after Voldemort's wand?"

"I think so."

"But you lock wands when you duel..."

Harry swore under his breath. "I don't know how I'm ever going to kill him, Hermione," he said. "Once I destroy the Horcruxes, there's still a piece of soul left inside him. I just-- I don't understand why Ollivander ever sold me my wand if he knew it was the twin to Voldemort's. You know? If he knew about Priori Incantatem... and you can bet that he did... he should have known that it would have this effect in the future!" Sighing, he gave the Fat Lady the password. "But," he said as they went through the portrait hole, "the wand chooses the wizard, right?"

Hermione's face was grim. She pulled Harry onto a couch. "There's an ideal wand for every wizard, Harry," she said slowly, "but there's no reason you couldn't have used another one. Look at Ron-- he used his brother's for a year before it snapped. Even Riddle used his uncle's wand to commit three murders."

"You think he gave it to me on purpose?"

"I wasn't saying that..."

"But it could be true. Look, they say it didn't look like he put up a fight when he was kidnapped. What if he is--"

"A Death Eater?" Hermione gave him a skeptical look. "Harry, not everyone's a Death Eater."

"That's what you said about Malfoy, remember?"

She sighed. "Fine, so I missed one. But I don't think this theory is very likely."

Harry stared into the fire for a long while, unresponsive. She became fidgety.

"Go, get to work on your Transfiguration essay," he said dismissively. "I know you can't wait to get to work at it."

She smiled. "That predictable, am I?"

Harry peered at her out of the top of his glasses. "You and homework... wormwood and asphodel..."

With a laugh, she headed toward the stairs. "You _are_ getting better at Potions."

"'Night," he called.

"'Night."

Harry could not sleep that night, and found himself sitting in front of Dumbledore's Pensieve once again, plunging himself into the old Headmaster's memories.

Dumbledore was sitting in the Burrow's sunny kitchen, having tea with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

"I've found out more about Regulus' murder," he said quietly, setting his teacup back on the saucer with a gentle clink of china.

The Weasleys leaned forward with grave interest.

"Drowned," said Dumbledore lightly.

"That's horrible," said Mrs. Weasley. She put her hand over her heart and looked to her husband.

A red-headed little boy toddled into the room, dragging a dirty blanket. He stood for a moment, blinking at Dumbledore, then promptly clambered up into his lap.

Mrs. Weasley smiled. "He's fond of you."

"He's just not afraid," Dumbledore said pleasantly, as the boy stuck the end of his blanket in his mouth. "He'll be a handful when he gets to school."

"George," admonished Mrs. Weasley, and tugged it out of his mouth.

"Have you any idea if it was... You-Know-Who?" Mr. Weasley's face was grim.

Dumbledore nodded. "We think it was on his orders, but we're not sure who carried them out yet."

As soon as his mother looked away, George grinned and shoved the blanket right back in his mouth. He sucked on it happily.

"Do you think it wasn't a Death Eater?" Mrs. Weasley leaned forward.

"Perhaps it was one in training. Perhaps it was someone's induction rite."

She shuddered.

"Thanks for the tea, dear Molly." Dumbledore lifted George off his lap and set him on the floor. He looked confused for a moment, then toddled away.

"Stop back soon," Mr. Weasley said.

And Harry was back in front of the basin, bare feet on the cold stone floor. Without a second's pause, he went back for more.

Harry landed in a small, dark room. The only light came from a pillar candle on the table, which cast spooky shadows on the uneven bricks of the walls. Dumbledore, looking much like he had in the Weasleys' kitchen, sat alone, scratching letters with a quill.

Without so much as a knock, the door burst open and a man who looked much like Sirius burst inside; Harry's heart jumped, but upon closer inspection, the man wasn't Sirius at all. Though he was just as handsome, he had a much longer face, and the mischievous sparkle that had always been in Sirius' eyes did not exist in this man's frightened gaze.

"Regulus," Dumbledore greeted.

He made a quick bow. "They are not far off. I'm not going to outlive this."

"You don't have to keep doing this, Regulus," Dumbledore said quietly. "You can hide with us."

"No," replied Regulus. "It's useless; they'll find me. I don't want to bring them upon you, upon my brother. Besides--" he laughed shortly-- "only three of you know I'm working for the Order in the first place."

"I assure you, everyone else would be just as welcoming."

Regulus shook his head. "No. My brother would be suspicious. Always. But you--" He came closer to the table. "You had faith in me. Thank you."

Dumbledore nodded.

There was a loud bang outside, followed by a series of shrieks.

"Here," Regulus said, pressing a small scroll of parchment into Dumbledore's palm. "I dare not stay any longer." And he rushed out.

And Harry was back in his own reality. He paused to think. _So Regulus was working for the Order? But he was a Death Eater. Who was he spying for?_ Harry tried to reason it out, but his head began to hurt. _I need more information._

This time, he was standing in Ollivander's shop.

"Ah! Albus!" Ollivander came around the counter and shook Dumbledore's hand with a smile. "What can I help you with? Surely you can't have broken your wand... you've had it so many years, it would be a shame to have to replace it now."

Dumbledore smiled politely. "I actually wanted to make an inquiry about that wand," he said indicating the one that rested on a cushion in the display window.

"Oh-- erm, that one?" Ollivander moved toward the window.

"Yes."

"One of the first ones we ever made," Ollivander said. "Back in the days of the Founders."

"I was wondering if I might purchase it," Dumbledore said.

"Purchase it?" Ollivander seemed taken aback at the very thought. "Why, Albus--"

"I have plenty of money," Dumbledore assured him, and produced a sizable pouch of Galleons.

Ollivander's eyes got big. "I'm afraid--" He sighed. "I'm afraid it's just not for sale."

"I understand." Dumbledore pocketed the pouch. "May I take a look, though?" He moved to the window and lifted the wand off the cushion. Ollivander drew in a sharp breath, as though the wand might shatter if anyone touched it.

"Beautiful craftsmanship," said Dumbledore, setting the wand gently back on its cushion, and Ollivander let out the breath he'd been holding. "If you ever do decide to part with it," Dumbledore continued with a smile, "it will be most welcome at Hogwarts."

"Thank you." Ollivander forced a smile, and hurried Dumbledore out of his shop.

Harry, thirsty for knowledge, peered over the edge of the stone basin and dipped into the memories one more time. This time, he found himself on the bank of a river, immersed in dense fog.

"Come on." Harry recognized the voice as Snape's.

"What if he floats to the top?" Pettigrew.

"He won't." Snape stood and watched Pettigrew for a moment, who was standing uncertainly on the rocks. Impatiently, Snape strode over and seized him by his robes. "Do you know what would happen if we were to be seen here?"

"Sorry."

"Now, come on." He pulled a curtain of greasy black hair from his face and marched forward, leaving Pettigrew to scamper after him.

"Is that it? Am I in now?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "Always trying to fit in, weren't you, Wormtail?"

"I managed it better than you did."

What happened then caught Harry off guard. Snape turned in a rage and backhanded Pettigrew, knocking him to the ground. Pettigrew covered his face, whimpering.

"It's different now!" shouted Snape, ignoring his own warning about stealth.

Pettigrew took his hands from his face. They were covered in blood, and his nose was broken.

"Is it true that Lily has been engaged to Potter?" Snape asked suddenly.

Pettigrew nodded. "Yes. They--"

Snape kicked him sharply in the stomach. "I don't want to hear about it," he said, and walked briskly away.

Harry's hatred for Snape swelled; it was also the only time he'd ever felt sorry for Peter Pettigrew. And why had Snape been asking questions about his mother? His head spun as he tried to sort everything out. He figured that either Snape or Pettigrew must have murdered Regulus. Probably Pettigrew, since Dumbledore had said something about initiation in the Weasleys' kitchen. So what was the Horcrux he had to destroy?

The mantra ran through his head. Three items were gone; three were left. _The cup. The snake. Something of Gryffindor or Ravenclaw's. _He was halfway there.


	14. Chapter 14

"Welcome back, mate," Harry said, as Ron limped into his seat in the dungeons. "How are you feeling?"

"I've been better," replied Ron, "but at least I don't have Madam Pomfrey hovering over me like a bird."

Harry laughed.

"C'mon, Malfoy, tell us what happened," Crabbe implored. Harry turned to see him at Malfoy's side, who had once again chosen his own separate table.

"Sod off," said Draco sourly. "Get away from me."

Pansy put a hand on his arm. "What's happened to you?"

Draco glared back at her. "Have you gotten uglier since yesterday? Didn't know a nose could get that flat. Looks like a mesa."

Insulted, she gasped and covered her nose.

"Right then!" Slughorn said, coming into the room. "Today we're going to be starting work on Veritaserum. Everyone in groups, please."

Harry and Ron turned in to face Hermione and Padma. Draco glanced across at the Slytherins, who rolled their eyes at him and turned their backs. Likewise, Michael Corner's group shunned him, whispering something about a "murdering git." He turned back to his Potions book, apparently deciding he'd just have to work on his own.

"Oh, for heaven's _sake,_" Hermione said exasperatedly. "Malfoy," she called, "would you like to come and work with us?"

Ron gave her a murderous look.

"He has no place to be!" she hissed. "It's only the neighborly thing to do..."

"He probably won't come anyway," said Harry, but to his great surprise, Draco picked up his bag and came over to their table.

"Okay," Hermione said brightly, as Ron threw daggers at Draco with his eyes, "we need five ingredients: powdered moonstone, runespoor eggs, valerian roots, the juice of mandrake berries, and jobberknoll feathers."

"I'll get the feathers," Padma offered, eager to escape the awkward situation.

"Ron and I will find the moonstone and the eggs," Harry said.

"I'll get the berries," Hermione said, "so Malfoy, you get the valerian roots."

They spread out across the room to get the ingredients and came back to the table. Draco and Hermione arrived back first. He took out his silver dagger and began to meticulously cut up the valerian roots when he saw Hermione taking the juice out of the berries. He stopped cutting.

Hermione noticed. "It's really quite easy," she said. Lots of people had asked her how she managed to get so much juice out of berries before. "You just have to make a little cut and peel the skin back a little. Then you'll get a perfect little lip, and once you squeeze the berry--" she demonstrated-- "there you are!" She held up a vial, which was filled with juice.

He looked away. "I don't need your Potions expertise." He paused. "Mudblood," he said, almost as an afterthought.

Hurt, she went on juicing berries until Ron came back with eggs in his hand. "Over-easy, scrambled, or poached?" he asked Hermione, making a little bow.

She giggled. "Over-easy, please. With wheat toast."

Harry and Padma came back, and Hermione poured her large vial of mandrake berry juice into the cauldron. "Put the feathers in right away," she instructed Padma, and began to stir. She watched as the potion turned pale blue, and beckoned for Ron to put the eggs in-- he did so, and the potion thickened.

"Malfoy, we need your roots."

He swept them off the table, into his hand, and squeezed in between Hermione and Ron, dropping them into the cauldron. At once, steam began to rise in dizzying spirals.

"Perfect," Hermione approved, standing on her tiptoes in excitement. If there was one thing Hermione Granger appreciated, it was perfection in an assignment, and they were nearing it. "Moonstone?"

Harry dumped the powdered moonstone into the potion and Hermione let out the breath she'd been holding-- it turned pale green, and the smoke dissipated.

"Perfect!" she repeated, though this time it was more of a squeal. "Now we just have to stir once every five minutes for twenty minutes." They sat back down around their table, and silence ensued.

Finally, Ron couldn't take it any longer. "You," he said to Malfoy, "are a git."

"Oh, yeah?" Malfoy sneered. "And you're a blood traitor with horrible taste in women. Let's discuss something we don't know already."

Harry's blood boiled. "She's the one who invited you to the table," he spat. "If it wasn't for her kindness you'd have a pot full of tar right now."

"If I remember correctly, I am the one who is good at Potions," he retorted. "So if it weren't for Granger, _you'd_ have a pot of tar. I'd probably have something a little bit more like apple juice." He smiled sarcastically. "Or perhaps lemonade."

"You let Greyback in the school last year," Ron said, getting straight to the heart of the matter.

Draco's smile vanished. "Now hold on, I--"

"He bit my brother Bill," continued Ron.

"I didn't know he was coming," Draco said defensively. "You think I'd have wanted a crazed werewolf running the halls of Hogwarts? I have friends here too, y'know. Well... had friends."

Harry and Ron ignored this. "Of course, you were just thinking of protecting everyone," Harry shot back. "Letting Death Eaters into the school and all. Top way to keep your "friends" safe."

"Yeah," said Ron. "Sending cursed necklaces and poisoned mead, not knowing whose hands they might wind up in... too bad it wasn't Pansy's... talk about horrible taste in women..."

"Look," Draco said. "I'm sorry about your brother, okay?"

Ron and Harry were so taken aback by this that they fell silent.

"And about the necklace and the wine... I had a reason for what I was doing."

"Trying to kill Dumbledore!" Ron burst out.

"It was his life or someone else's!" Draco shouted.

Ron leered. "You're a bloody coward," he stammered, "and no better than a murderer."

But Harry knew. He'd been there, watching it all unfold, and knew that Draco had been unable to commit murder even to save his parents. And now one of them had died even though the Headmaster was gone.

"And," Ron continued, "better to be a blood traitor in a one-room shack than to be a poncy git who can't even go home to the one parent he has left."

At this, Draco made to hit him, but Harry held him back.

"That's enough!" Hermione shouted. She stirred the potion one time, and gathered Ron's things for him. "Go back to the dormitories."

Sullenly, he took them.

"Wrapped around her dirty little finger," Draco jeered.

Hermione handed Draco his bag. "You too," she demanded, her arms crossed.

For a moment, Harry wondered if Draco might punch Hermione. Maybe as retribution for their third year. But he silently took his bag and followed Ron out the door.

"I," Hermione declared imperiously, "am going behind them, so if a fist fight breaks out in the hallway, I can stop it." She slung her bag over her shoulder. "Don't forget. Once every five minutes. You have three stirs left."

Harry glanced at Padma. "I can handle it," he told her, "if you want to skive off early."

"Okay," Padma agreed. "I have Divination homework, anyway."

Harry waved at her as she left, and sat back in his chair to enjoy a peaceful fifteen minutes alone. He watched the time, careful to stir once at each five-minute mark, just as Hermione had said, and by the end of the class, the potion was the exact shade of "palest lilac purple" that it was supposed to be.

Everyone else had already left. Harry extinguished the flames and gathered his things.

"Harry, m'boy!"

"Yes, Professor Slughorn?"

"You know, I'm having one of the ol' Slug Club parties before the Christmas Ball," he said affably, puffing up his chest. "Why don't you and your date come by?"

"Uh, sure," Harry said.

"I'll be owling everyone with invitations, of course," he continued, "but they'll come the day of the ball. I don't want anyone being able to fake their own invitation so they can gate-crash." Harry must have looked quite confused, because Slughorn began explaining his security measures. "You know... we'll have someone at the door, checking invitations, making sure it's only the select few I've invited..." He beamed. "My dear friends from the Weird Sisters will be making an appearance. Maybe you'll get a chance to chat with them." He winked and lumbered on into his office.

With a sigh, Harry exited the dungeons. He was in the middle of cooking up a plot to get out of the Slug Club party when he heard an argument down the hall.

"Your wand looks ancient," Max Hauser was saying contemptuously to Melody. "Too poor for a new one?"

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were a Weasley," added Allyn Zabini, who never turned down the chance to bully someone.

Melody turned to Allyn. "You're the one with the red hair," she said, which shut her right up. Then she turned to Max. "It is ancient."

"Did your grandmother will it to you when she died?" he teased.

She drew herself up proudly. "No. It's one of the first wands Ollivander's ever made."

Gisela Franco regarded her suspiciously. "How do you know that?"

"He told me so himself," said she.

Max snatched it from her.

"Hey!" she protested. "Give it back!"

"Give her the wand back," Harry instructed. He towered over the Hauser boy, and he promptly returned it to her, along with a sneer worthy of Malfoy.

"Now get lost."

Gisela, Max, and Allyn turned and left.

"Thanks," Melody said, stowing her wand away.

"So... that's one of Ollivander's first wands, I heard?"

Melody nodded.

"How'd you get it?"

"I was with my aunt and my cousin, getting her wand before she went to Hogwarts, and Mr. Ollivander looked at me, and he said that he had the perfect wand for me. And my aunt said that I was too young yet, that I wasn't going to Hogwarts that year, and she wasn't going to be buying one for me. But Mr. Ollivander told her that I needed to have the wand, and he would just give it to me, I wouldn't have to pay for it. He took it off a pillow in the window and told me to take real good care of it, as it was one of the first wands that Ollivander's had ever made."

Harry mulled this over. "The wand chooses the wizard," he murmured to himself.

"That's what Mr. Ollivander said," Melody told him earnestly.

"Could I see it?"

Reluctantly, Melody handed her wand over. He examined it closely, noticing the letters "RR" on the bottom of the handle, which looked like it had been inlaid with gold and ivory. "Real piece of history you have there, Melody," Harry said, almost stumbling over his words as he handed it back to her. "See you around."

"See you!" She waved merrily.

Harry set off toward Gryffindor Tower, his pace quickening with each step. By the time he reached the portrait hole, he was at a dead run.

"Ron, Hermione. Ginny." Out of breath, he plopped down on the couch next to Ginny. "You wouldn't believe-- I think I figured it out."

Ron looked up from his chess match with Ginny. "What?"

"It's Ravenclaw's wand," Harry told him, fully aware that he was speaking nonsense. "Look. Something of Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's-- Dumbledore told me that the relics of Gryffindor's were safe, but Ravenclaw, we never knew about. Then that first-year girl comes in with Ravenclaw's wand..."

Hermione was bewildered. "What?"

In reply, Harry filled them in on the entire conversation he'd just had with Melody and the memories from the Pensieve last night.

"And you think that might be the relic of Ravenclaw's?" Hermione sounded uncertain.

"Well, yes, I mean... the initials on the wand, how old it is..." Harry trailed off. "Hermione, are you making elf clothes again?"

She smiled brightly. "Yes. It's hard work finding time to do it though."

"So just don't do it," Ron groaned. "How many times do we have to tell you, they like their lives?"

Hermione ignored him. "So do you know the murder weapon?"

"No," Harry said slowly, "but I do know one thing."

"What's that?" Ginny blinked back at him.

"I have this feeling that Regulus Black may have been important for Voldemort to kill."

"But didn't you say that Pettigrew murdered him?" Hermione knotted off the end of her yarn.

"Yeah," Harry said, "but in one of the books Moody gave me, it said something about murder being able to split two souls. Wormtail may have murdered him, but it was on Voldemort's orders. So both souls are split."

"I see," Hermione said thoughtfully.

"Anyway," Harry continued, "the river that Pettigrew drowned Regulus in... that's the murder weapon."

"So you're going to toss the wand in the river?" asked Ron.

"No," Hermione said, "that would be too risky."

"Why?" Harry had thought that throwing the wand in would be an excellent idea.

"Well," she began, "what if you're wrong about Regulus' murder being the murder that made the wand Horcrux? Or what if it's the wrong river? Then there's a piece of Voldemort's soul floating on where you can't destroy it."

Harry considered this. "Right. So then..."

"So get some river water in a jar," Hermione said. "You can submerge it that way. Or pour it on the wand."

"Good thinking," he approved.

"Which river is it?" asked Ginny, out of curiosity.

"That's the problem," Harry said. "I don't know." He paused. "But there's one person who does."

"Pettigrew," Ginny said.

He nodded. "I'm going to have to find him and force the answer out of him."

"When?" Ron wanted to know.

"I was thinking over the Christmas break."


	15. Chapter 15

The next week proved to be a tough one for Harry. Three of his professors set essays on Monday. On Tuesday, he was supposed to spend time with Ginny, but she had to serve a detention for hexing a classmate. On Wednesday, his attempt at human Transfiguration turned into disaster, and he spent half the day in the hospital wing while Madam Pomfrey tried to remove the fur from his skin. And on Thursday, Ron and Hermione got in a row.

"What does she want to be friends with that git for anyway?" Ron muttered, watching sourly as Hermione showed Draco the best way to crush a sopophorous bean, taking it between her long white fingers, taut like piano strings, and crushed it with a silver dagger in the exact way Harry had shown her last year.

"I think," Harry said carefully, "she's just trying to be civil to him. He has had a tough go of it lately. Doesn't have any friends left here."

Ron said nothing. But then Padma was there-- "Ron, will you help me ground up this unicorn horn?"-- and he was able to tear his eyes away and assist with the task at hand.

Harry let out a sigh of relief, thankful for her presence. Padma Patil had this way of putting people at ease just by being around them, which was a gift. Her sister was rather chattery and vivacious, but Padma, in her subdued manner, burned like a calm flame, steady and unwavering, a source of warmth and solace.

And then it happened. Hermione was coming back from the cabinet, where she had retrieved a jar of salamander blood. She passed the Slytherin table, and Zabini whispered something into Pansy Parkinson's ear. Pansy giggled mischievously and glared in Hermione's direction, and just as she reached the table with her jar--

"Agh!" she shrieked, losing her footing, and Draco instinctively put his hands out to stop her from falling. The jar crashed to the floor, shattering into a million pieces, spilling blood all over.

"Thanks," Hermione said, surprised.

For a moment, she thought he was going to be as civil as to reply with "You're welcome." Instead, what came out of his mouth was "Better go wash my hands."

Ron was fit to burst. "You rotten-- lousy-- foul--" He raised his wand.

"Ron!"

He stopped, mid-hex. "I see," he said quietly. Gathering his things, he walked silently out of the classroom.

Hermione chased him down the hall. "Ron! It's not like that..."

He turned around. "You've been awful friendly with him lately."

"Ron, it's still Malfoy. He's still a git. Well," she said admittedly, "less of a git than he has been in the past--"

He scowled.

"But still a git," she said hurriedly. When he didn't reply, she sighed. "Look, all I was trying to do-- I thought maybe if he had some decent friends he'd turn out all right, you know?"

Ron snorted. "That's the trouble with you, always trying to save people who don't want to be saved."

"What do you mean?"

"Malfoy, the house-elves... they're all happy with where they are. Malfoy has to be a twit, else he wouldn't be Malfoy. The house-elves like their bloody service, how many times do we have to tell you?"

Hermione looked hurt. "Ron..."

"How about," Ron spouted, "next time you're knitting house-elf clothes, make me a sweater. And give it to me."

Her eyes filled with tears. "What would you want that for?" Her voice was husky.

"So I can have my freedom." And he left Hermione standing there, alone, in the corridor, choking back tears.

Later that night, Harry found Hermione angrily stabbing her needle into a large, misshapen sweater.

"We must have gotten a pretty big house-elf," Harry noted.

Hermione half-smiled, wiping her eyes. They were red and puffy. "Oh, Harry. It's not for a house-elf."

He nodded, taking a seat next to her. "Ron told me."

"I just want it to go back to the way it used to be," she said wistfully, "when we didn't fight every day. It was better like that. And if we have to just be friends to make that happen--" She shrugged.

"C'est la vie?" suggested Harry.

"Learn that from Phlegm, did you?"

"Glad to see you can still make a joke. And I thought you liked her now?"

Hermione shrugged again. "She's alright." Holding up her sweater, she realized that the sleeve she was working on was too long, and began to pull it out. "You and Ginny all set for the ball, then?" she asked.

Harry nodded. "Are you still going to go?"

"Not with Ron," she said adamantly. "I suppose I'll go alone."

After a moment of silence, she looked across at Harry. "Good night," she said, and kept plugging away at her knitting.

"You're not going anywhere," Harry said, puzzled.

"No, I'm not," Hermione replied. "You are."

Taking the hint, he got up. "'Night, then," he said, and went upstairs.

While everyone else was preoccupied with the Snowflake Ball (as Slughorn had termed it), over the last few weeks, Harry was making a grisly list of the Horcruxes, Voldemort's known victims, and ways in which they were killed. As Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas outlined their plan to smuggle some firewhisky in, Harry was outlining a plan to search for Wormtail. Hermione and Ron had stopped speaking altogether, and the night before the Ball, things only got worse.

"Have you found a date?" Harry asked Ron casually, as they took their dinner in the Great Hall.

Ron shook his head. "I don't think I'm going."

"Why won't you come by yourself? Hermione's going to."

"No, she's not," Neville put in. "She's coming with me."

"You?" Ron whirled around.

"J-just as friends," Neville said quickly, noticing Ron's frosty glare.

"Bugger," Ron said, vexed. He studied the sausages on his plate. "So, you think I should--"

"I think you should get over with it and go by yourself," Ginny said matter-of-factly.

"Well, I think _you_ should--"

But Hermione came to sit with them then, and Harry never did get to find out what it was that Ron thought Ginny ought to do.

"I have something for you, Ronald," Hermione said evenly.

He glanced up.

Hermione pulled out the knobbly sweater and handed it to him. "You're free," she said simply.

Ron said nothing.

"It's what you wanted, isn't it?" Her eyes were searching, imploring.

Slowly, he nodded.

"Right, then." Hermione bobbed her head and ran from the Hall.

A blonde head, sitting across the room at the Slytherin table, snapped to attention, watching her run.

That night, Harry went to the Pensieve. It was an escape, almost like the Mirror of Erised had been-- even though it didn't make him forget his danger, it made him feel like he had guidance. Like Dumbledore was still there.

He plunged his head in and found himself standing in the middle of a cluttered sitting-room.

_This looks familiar,_ he thought.

"She had a cup and a locket," a frantic middle-aged man was saying. "Where are they?"

_I'm in Hepzibah Smith's house._

"Miss Ray?"

The woman he was talking to, who looked like she belonged to the Ministry's Department of Magical Law Enforcement, shrugged. "I haven't seen anything of the sort."

"She always kept them well hidden," said the man, mostly to himself. "Maybe..." And he began to dig through boxes and cabinets.

"It's poison, Alex," said a man's voice from the kitchen. He came around the corner, and Harry recognized him as a much, much younger version of Rufus Scrimgeour.

"What kind?"

"I'm not sure-- rare, though. Nothing I recognize."

Alex nodded. "We'll get the alchemists to work on it."


	16. Chapter 16

Upon setting eyes on Ginny in the commonroom before going down to the ball, Harry was certain of one thing. He had fought Voldemort, battled Death Eaters, slayed dragons, and killed a basilisk. He was proud of all of that. But nothing compared to how proud he felt knowing that he'd be escorting the most beautiful girl at Hogwarts to the Snowflake Ball.

She waited for him in the commonroom, wearing a satin dress the color of celery, with bell sleeves and a long skirt. Around her waist was a gold ribbon. Her hair was done up in curls, pinned to her head-- Hermione had helped her-- and crystal chandeliers dangled from her delicate ears.

"You're beautiful." Harry was breathless.

Blushingly, she smiled. "Thank you."

"Here," Harry said, remembering suddenly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small gold ring with a red jewel set in it. "It was my mum's. I pulled it from the wreckage that day. I want you to have it."

"Oh," Ginny breathed, "I couldn't--"

"Please."

With a demure smile, she held her left hand out for him, and he slipped the delicate band onto her ring finger.

"It's beautiful," she said, twirling it. "Thank you."

He gave her a quick kiss. "Shall we?"

She beamed. "Let's."

They made their way down to the Great Hall, which had been cleared out and decorated magnificently. Great ice sculptures of unicorns and phoenixes and other majestic creatures dotted the floor, while little fire-fairies flitted about, lighting candles. From the ceiling, an icicle chandelier gave the room a bit of sparkle, and a faint dusting of snow covered the entire floor.

"Look," Ginny said, "there's Hermione and Neville." She waved, and they made their way over.

Harry was quite sure he'd never seen Hermione looking so radiant, either. She was in a vibrant red dress that clung to her like a second skin, with lipstick to match. Her hair was identical to Ginny's style, accentuated by sparkles. But the thing that made her glow the most was her smile. Harry was sure if all the candles went out and the chandelier lost its enchantment, Hermione's smile would still be there to light the night.

"Hi!" said Hermione merrily.

"Hey, Hermione," Ginny returned. "You look great!"

"Thanks. You too. So, did you manage to escape the Slug Club party?" Her grin was infectious, and Harry laughed.

"Yes. Ginny and I told him that we had a pressing engagement."

"Which was?" She raised an eyebrow.

Harry shrugged. "Serving detentions."

Neville and Hermione both laughed. "And what was it really?"

"Make-up time," said Ginny.

"Nap time," said Harry.

Everyone laughed.

"Let's go get punch," Hermione suggested.

They made their way over to the refreshment table.

"Let's hope Dean and Seamus didn't spike it," Ginny said.

Harry smiled. "I'll taste test it for you." He ladled himself a cup. "Seems fine to me." He set it down and got one for Ginny, who accepted it with a smile.

Padma, accompanied by Michael Corner, joined the foursome. "Hi!" she greeted them. "Michael and I decided to come-- just as friends." She stressed the last three words. "Where's Ron at?"

"Oh," Harry said, "he's up in the dormitories."

Her expression turned to one of concern. "How come?"

"He's... he's not feeling well," said Harry uncomfortably.

Just then, the Weird Sisters came out onto the stage, which was actually several large ice blocks cemented with packed snow and covered with a clear pane of glass. Without introduction, they began to play one of their more popular dance songs.

"Oooh!" Hermione set her glass down and grabbed Neville's wrist. "C'mon-- I love this song!"

Ginny and Harry laughed, following. "Is it just me," Ginny said, "or is she ten times happier since she and my brother split?"

Although he knew Ron was spending the night alone, sulking in Gryffindor Tower, he felt a smile come to his face as he watched Hermione, spinning and laughing. "She is. I think she feels-- sort of reborn, in a way." He sighed. "I just wish Ron would take it the same way."

She nodded and held out both hands. "Want to dance?"

Harry grinned and allowed her to lead him out onto the floor, but just as they started to move, the song switched to a slow ballad.

Contentedly, Ginny leaned her head against Harry's shoulder as they fell into step with the music. She watched the people around her go by. "Hey," she said, "Malfoy came."

Harry turned. Sure enough, there he was, in full black, his straw-blond hair and pale face a painful contrast to the dress robes he wore. "He must be with Millicent?"

Ginny shook her head. "Millicent is dating a Slytherin in my year," she told him.

"Maybe he came alone."

Shrugging, Ginny nestled closer to him. "Maybe he came with Neville's toad."

"Even Trevor wouldn't stoop so low."

Ginny laughed.

After the slow song ended, Professor Slughorn stepped onto the stage. "Welcome, Hogwarts students, to the Snowflake Ball! As you can see, I have invited my dear friends from the Weird Sisters to provide some of tonight's entertainment..."

Hermione edged her way through the crowd. "Talk, talk, talk," she whispered in Harry's ear, who gave her a good-natured smile.

"How did he get his head through the door?" Ginny said sardonically.

"I'm going to get punch," Neville said, walking away.

"I think that now, they'll play that fast one," Slughorn suggested, looking round at the lead singer. "Bewitched?"

The Weird Sisters struck up the song.

"Better watch the bass player," Slughorn said with a wink, and left the stage.

"Maybe," Ginny puffed as Harry twirled her, "he'll run into the centaurs."

"Why couldn't the goblins have visited _his _classroom?" Hermione covered her mouth. "Oh, that's a terrible thing to say..." She bit her lip, but giggled.

"Or maybe," called Harry the next time they passed her, "he'll just save us all the trouble and gorge himself on crystallized pineapple."

Laughing, Hermione spun around, and found herself face-to-face with Draco Malfoy. Her lips flattened into a thin line.

"Granger," he said acidly.

"Malfoy."

And without a word, without thinking, he set his right hand on Hermione's waist and slipped his fingers into hers. A waltz began, and they began to step to the music.

It was several seconds before either of them said a word.

"I don't blame you for anything," Hermione whispered.

Draco tightened his grip on her waist and pulled her closer. "I know."

They danced quietly, ignoring the stares of the people around them, paying no mind to the indignant stare of Ginny Weasley as she looked over Harry's shoulder in ire. As the song ended, Hermione nodded at the door, and they hurried wordlessly out into the hallway and into the courtyard, choosing to hide themselves behind a cluster of trees.

Draco's defenses went up immediately. "You're not going to get any secrets out of me, Granger, and I'm not going to tell you where Snape--"

Hermione stood on her toes and pressed her lips to his. Draco's eyes grew wide in shock; he watched her intently for a moment, then let his eyelids drop, reaching out to pull her close.

Meanwhile, Ginny was yanking her heels off in a huff. "First Dumbledore trusts Snape, and Snape kills him. Then you saw Malfoy with your own eyes, admitting to everything he's done-- the necklace, the mead-- which almost killed my brother-- the Imperius Curse on Rosmerta, letting Death Eaters into the school-- trying to murder Dumbledore-- and McGonagall says she believes he won't do anything else wrong, and lets him back into the school?" She sat down hard on a stair. "And now he's charming Hermione," she sighed. "He'll murder her, you know it."

In his mind's eye, Harry saw Draco lowering his wand as Dumbledore tried to reason with him. "He's had a tough time, Ginny," he said slowly, remembering his words in the tower. "Voldemort sent him to kill Dumbledore and threatened to kill his parents if he didn't succeed."

Ginny turned on him. "Now you're defending him?" she spat incredulously. "After all he's done?"

"Malfoy's not an angel by any means," Harry said to her, "but I do pity him a little. He's a slave to his father and to Voldemort. I doubt he's as monstrous as he tries to make himself appear."

"I always saw him as a bit of a prat," Ginny mused. "I mean, he was always talking big, but never did much to back it up."

"Until Voldemort's ultimatum."

"Yeah."

They sat in silence for a moment, Ginny massaging the balls of her feet.

"Are you going over break?" she finally asked. "To look for Pettigrew?"

Harry nodded.

"I'm coming with," Ginny told him.

"Ginny..."

"Shut up," she said flatly. "If you're gone, there's no point in me being here anyway."

He turned in surprise.

"Oh, don't look so shocked," she continued, her words tumbling over one another. "You know it's always been this way for me. And it always will be, too. I love you."

Harry smoothed a lock of hair from her face. "Oh, Gin." He wrapped his arms around her. "I love you too."

The pale yellow sunrise filtered through the ice and snow before Harry and Ginny made their way back to Gryffindor Tower. He bid her goodnight with a long kiss outside the portrait hole, and they made their way up to their respective dormitories.

Everyone else was asleep in their beds already, including Neville, who had spent the remainder of his evening with Luna Lovegood after it was evident Hermione wouldn't be returning to the dance. Harry tiptoed around, trying not to wake anyone.

"How was the dance?" came a tired voice, and Harry turned to see Ron sitting up.

Harry nodded. "It was okay," he said carefully. "Padma was asking about you."

"Was she?" He shifted. "So, did Hermione and Neville get on well?"

"Actually," Harry said with a grin, "Neville spent most of the night with Luna."

Ron cracked a smile. "That," he said, "is pretty much awesome." He paused. "So who did Hermione spend most of the night with?"

Harry shrugged. "Dunno."

"What do you mean you don't know? Wasn't she with you?"

"Well, for the beginning she was..."

"Then what happened?"

"She had a dance with someone else--"

"Who?"

Harry sighed. "Malfoy."

Ron sat bolt upright. "What?"

"Yeah."

"And then what happened?"

"They went off together. I didn't see them for the rest of the--"

"Bloody hell!" interjected Ron, jumping out of bed. "And you just let her go?"

"I'm not her father, Ron," Harry said. "Besides, they were on the other side of the room. I only saw them as they were leaving."

"Bloody _hell!_" he said again. "Why didn't-- he could have--" His eyes blazed with fury. "Why didn't you go after her?" His tone was accusing.

Neville stirred. "What's with all the yelling?" He rubbed his eyes.

Ron turned on him. "She was _your_ date, you could have stopped her from going off with him, but no, you had to go after Loony..."

He turned pink. "Hermione and I were there as _friends,_" he said pointedly. "And her name," he added, "is _Luna._"

Angrily, Ron looked from Harry to Neville. "Forget it," he said irritably, and stomped out of the room.


	17. Chapter 17

"Harry!" Mrs. Weasley wrapped him up in a bear hug. "So good to see you."

"Good to see you too, Mrs. Weasley," he replied.

She went down the line; Ginny, Ron, Hermione. Ron's face twisted into a scowl at seeing his mother treat Hermione like a daughter. "Well, come on," she said. "Dinner's on. Fleur has made us some French cuisine!"

From the kitchen, they could hear Fleur's voice-- "Eet eez _un petit_ rare, _cherie!"_ A moment later, she emerged from the kitchen. "Cooking for zat man is impossible," she sighed. "But you'd know all about werewolves and zair rare meat, no?" With an airy giggle, she floated back into the kitchen.

"Blimey," said Tonks from behind Ron, and Harry realized that she was who Fleur had been talking to.

"I didn't know you were coming!" Ron exclaimed.

Lupin appeared, looking patched-up. "Both of us are here," he said with a smile. "Your mum, whose heart is bigger than anyone's I know, was kind enough to invite us."

Mrs. Weasley, wearing an apron over her robes, blushed. "I'd better see how Fleur's getting on." She disappeared.

"So," Harry said to Lupin, "what's the news on the werewolves?"

"Unfortunately," he sighed, "a lot of them are siding with Greyback. Not in the sense that all of them want to attack children, but he's certainly swayed a lot of them into hating humans."

"And what have Bill and Fleur been doing?" he asked. "I know Fleur went to France with Madame Maxime--"

"Maxime is finishing Hagrid's crusade," Lupin told him. "She's back with the giants. And Fleur, she's been at Beauxbatons, helping out in Maxime's absence."

"What about Bill?"

"I don't know if I should divulge that information just yet," Lupin said, after a sharp glance from Mrs. Weasley, who had come back to set salt and pepper shakers on the table.

"We're ready," she said. "Have a seat!"

"This is Christmas dinner?" Ron said, an eyebrow arched, as Fleur set a tureen of onion soup in front of him.

"Eet eez the first course," Fleur said haughtily.

Hermione leaned over to Harry. "Eat the onion soup before it eats you," she jested, and Ron found himself chuckling.

_You're still mad at her,_ he reminded himself, and stifled his laughter. With every ounce of dignity he could scrape together, he placed a spoonful of soup in his mouth. "It's very good," he said stiffly.

Fred and George breezed through the door, loaded with packages. "Sorry we're late, Mum," George called.

"Shopping took a little longer than expected--"

"We looked high and low for a life-sized troll for Ron--"

"Guess you can start with some Chocolate Frogs, though." Fred tossed one to his brother, grinning.

"Thanks," Ron said.

Mrs. Weasley snatched it up. "No chocolate before dinner!"

"It's not before dinner," Ginny pointed out. "We've already got soup." A fake smile plastered on her lips, she bit into a baby onion. "Mmm. Delicious."

"Ginevra," Mrs. Weasley reprimanded, and she scowled.

"You know I hate being called that, Mum."

Tonks regarded her sympathetically.

After dumping their packages under the tree in the livingroom, Fred and George slid into their chairs at the table.

"Oy, Bill," Fred said, "nice earring."

Bill fingered the fang earring that dangled from his earlobe. "Like it? It's real, too. From a viper that bit me."

Fleur gazed at Bill. "'E's so brave," she said adoringly.

Harry exchanged a glance with Ginny, who looked like she was going to be sick. "So, Bill," he said, not able to quell his curiosity, "what have you been doing since the wedding?"

"Oh, different things, here and there," he said dismissively.

"Trying to sway the goblins?" pressed Harry.

"A little, yes," Bill replied.

"Is it true that some of them have joined with Voldemort because they were promised rights and freedoms?"

Bill glanced at his mother. "He knows more than you give him credit for." Turning back to Harry, he nodded. "Yes. But some of the other goblins are content with their lives, and still others want to be treated as equals but also know that Voldemort will not hold to his promise."

"They're pawns," Harry said.

"Exactly."

Fleur and Mrs. Weasley took the soup bowls away and returned with a tray of turkey, mashed potatoes, and several other delicious-looking dishes.

"Phlegm did all this? I'm impressed," Ginny whispered in Harry's ear. "I didn't know that she knew how to cook without servants and house-elves."

Harry coughed to cover his laughter, and allowed Mr. Weasley to set a generous slice of turkey on his plate.

"Ron, would you pass the potatoes?" asked Hermione.

"So, Dad," George piped up, as Ron silently handed the bowl to his former girlfriend, "how's the job at the Ministry coming along?"

Mr. Weasley grinned. "I don't think that the Minister likes Dolores Umbridge all that well," he said with satisfaction.

"Who does?" Harry pointed out, helping himself to more corn.

Ron laughed.

"At any rate," Mr. Weasley continued, "I'm not sure that I'll get it, but it's looking alright."

"Oh," Tonks said, "don't be so modest. Scrimgeour is looking for a reason to get rid of her. He doesn't want to promote her."

Mrs. Weasley beamed. "This job is going to mean a lot to this family," she said, passing the butter dish to Fred. "We'll have plenty of Galleons!"

Ron shifted uncomfortably.

"What is that noise?" Mrs. Weasley said suddenly.

Fred grinned. "Sounds like it's coming from the livingroom," he said.

"Sure does, Fred. Mum, why don't you come out and see what's making all that racket?" George suggested.

"Perhaps I will," Mrs. Weasley agreed, setting her napkin down and rising from the table. Followed by the twins, she went into the livingroom.

"Oh, boys," Mrs. Weasley said, pulling a cover from a cage to reveal a large eagle owl. She put her hand over her heart. "I don't believe you."

"Errol's getting so old," George said, "we thought perhaps you should just let him stay around the house for what's left of his life."

"And what's this guy's name?" Mrs. Weasley cooed, sticking a finger in between the bars of the cage.

"She's a girl," Fred told her. "We haven't named her yet."

"Let's call her Artemis," Ginny suggested from the doorway.

"Oh," Hermione breathed, coming in from the kitchen, "she's beautiful!" She turned to Ron. "No more crash-landings in the Great Hall," she said with a smile.

Ron scowled. "What, am I good enough for you now that my dad's getting a new job and we have a decent owl?"

Everyone turned to Ron in surprise.

"That's not what I--"

"Oh, forget it," he sighed, and trudged up the stairs to his own room.

A bit later, Harry joined him. "Hey, mate."

"Hey."

"They're going to open presents."

Ron shrugged. "I'll have a sweater from Mum, something ridiculous that I don't want from Hermione--"

Harry tossed a bag of Honeydukes sweets onto Ron's bed. "Here's part of my present for you," he said.

"Brilliant," Ron approved, digging in. He chose a box of Ice Mice for himself, and threw a Chocolate Frog to Harry.

"Thanks," Harry said, pulling the cord.

"Who'd you get?"

"Dumbledore." Harry turned the card over in his hand-- the portrait of Dumbledore winked at him.

And then something occurred to him. He put the card up to his face. "Can you hear me?" he asked tentatively.

The portrait smiled. "Ah, you've figured it out," it said.

Ron started. "Did-- was--"

"Is that Mr. Weasley in the room with you?"

"Yes," Harry said.

"Good, good. And Miss Granger?"

"No, she's not here."

"Ah."

"Sir," Harry began, unable to stop himself, "why didn't you let me help you? That night in the tower? I could have stopped Malfoy--"

"Ah, but Draco stopped himself."

"But Snape didn't, Snape went right through with it--"

"_Professor_ Snape, Harry."

Harry was livid. "How can you still want me to treat him with respect? Professor-- he's a murderer!"

"I trust Severus," said the portrait.

"I don't believe it!" Harry exploded.

"You know," said Hermione's voice from the doorway, "wizard portraits repeat phrases and wisdom that the person said in their lifetime. Maybe Dumbledore-in-the-card doesn't realize what's happened."

"Don't you knock?" Ron spat.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said sarcastically, "it's just that there's a Dark Mark in the sky, and I figured maybe you might want to know." With that, she turned on her heel and left.

Harry and Ron exchanged a look, and Harry flew to the window. Sure enough, a bright emerald skull had emerged in the sky.

"Someone's been murdered," Ron said. "It looks like it's over by the Diggory place--"

Harry ran downstairs. Tonks and Lupin were already out the door; Bill, Fleur, and Ron's parents were putting on jackets. Harry reached for his.

"No, lad," Mr. Weasley said, "let us handle this one."

"I'm not a child," Harry protested.

"We know it," said Mr. Weasley. "We all know you'll have to fight You-Know-Who when the time comes. Save your strength for that." And they left.

Swearing under his breath, Harry toppled over a chair. "I am so sick of--"

But he never got to finish his sentence. At that moment, the back door nearly came off its hinges, and a gust of wind shook the house.

"Just the wind?" Ron said nervously.

Harry pulled his wand out and edged toward the kitchen. Steeling herself, Ginny followed.

"Charming," said the voice of Bellatrix Lestrange, picking up one of Mrs. Weasley's prized teacups. "Look at the cute little roses."

"Put it down," Harry demanded, his wand raised.

"Ohh," she cooed, "we have company!" She threw the cup to the floor where it shattered into pieces. "Come, Natalya... meet our little baby Potter."

From around the corner stepped a slender albino girl with blood-red eyes, her skin white as parchment, her hair like silvery threads of moonlight.

"Natalya Ivanakov," Hermione said, a trace of shock in her voice.

"That's right," said the girl. Her eyes blazed. "And you, you must be the Granger girl. Oh, how Viktor went on about you... pity he won't be getting any more letters from you..."

Bellatrix cackled. "At least Amos Diggory and his wife have joined their bitsy boy," she said, switching into her baby voice.

"You killed them," Harry said, aghast. "That's what the Mark in the sky was for..."

"He's got it now," said Bellatrix.

"What," Harry found himself saying, "no rat to do your dirty work this time?"

"Pettigrew!" spat Bellatrix, and he scurried into the room.

"Aha," Harry said. "Just who I was looking for. _Expelliarmus!_" Pettigrew's wand flew from his fingers, and Ron grabbed it immediately.

_"Incarcerous!" _Ginny shouted, and Hermione echoed her; in seconds, Bellatrix and Natalya were frozen in ropes.

"You," began Harry, advancing on Pettigrew, "you are going to tell me something."

Wormtail shuddered.

"You drowned Regulus Black," he said. "What river did you drown him in?"

Hands shaking, teeth chattering, he looked from Bellatrix to Natalya. "I don't know!" he wailed pathetically, covering his face with his hands.

"Oh, but you _do_ know," Harry pressed, sinking the tip of his wand into Pettigrew's temple. "Tell me."

"Don't you tell him," snapped Bellatrix. "The Dark Lord will punish you..."

Pettigrew cried out. In his mind, the betrayal of Harry's father kept poking at his conscience, and he thought of the day in the Shrieking Shack that Harry spared his life. He fell to his knees.

"Mistress," he said, appealing to Bellatrix, "don't tell..."

"If you reveal your secrets, I will inform the Dark Lord at once!" Bellatrix shrieked.

Harry grabbed him by his collar and dragged him into the next room, away from her piercing eyes. "Tell me."

Pettigrew cowered. "The... the River Thames," he squeaked out. "The Dark Lord... he used it... under his orders... a Horcrux, the wand..."

"He will torture you... I will torture you..." Bellatrix screamed wildly from the kitchen.

Pettigrew shuddered. "I've paid my debt," he breathed, "and I'm dead now."

Natalya's concentration was bent on her wand, which was lying at Ginny's feet. _"Accio!" _she commanded, and her wand flew into her palm. She released herself and Bellatrix in a flash.

_"Stupefy!" _yelled Fred instantly, and Natalya crashed into the kitchen cabinets. She made to raise her wand, but grabbed her wrist in pain.

"He calls," Bellatrix said, closing her eyes to relish the burn of the Dark Mark on her wrist.

Instantly, Pettigrew Apparated away.

"You haven't seen the last of us, child," Bellatrix seethed, and before Harry could retort, she and Natalya had vanished.

"The Thames," Ginny said.

"I'll go stay at the Leaky Cauldron for a day," Harry said. "Bring the water back in a jar to Hogwarts-- that should do it, don't you think?"

"Maybe you actually have to put it in the river," Ron said.

Hermione put her hands on her hips. "Didn't you hear me? Harry can't throw it in the river..."

"I know that," said Ron impatiently. "I just meant... maybe he had to hold it underneath the surface."

The front door opened, and the Weasleys came through the door, followed by Lupin and Tonks.

"Amos and Elizabeth have been killed," Mrs. Weasley said listlessly, sweeping her tartan off her head and hanging it up.

"We know. Bellatrix, Pettigrew, and-- who was the third one?" Harry looked round at Hermione.

"Natalya Ivanakov," she said.

"Right." He blinked back up at them.

"They were here?" Tonks' hair relaxed into a light teal, showing her surprise.

Harry nodded. "I got the information I needed from Pettigrew," he said. "I need to go to the Thames."


	18. Chapter 18

"I still don't see why you all had to come with me," Harry said. "I'm collecting river water, not dueling with Voldemort."

Ron shrugged. "You never know, mate."

Harry's hand was in his sweatshirt pocket, toying with the Chocolate Frog card. What he really wanted was time to talk to Dumbledore alone, to figure things out for himself, but with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny there, that was never going to happen.

"Is this it?" Ginny squinted. The night fog was settling in, and she carefully toed her way through the long, damp grass, disappearing into the haze.

Harry looked around himself. "This looks like the place from the memory," he said, recognizing the thatched house on the bank and the rickety dock.

Twisting the top off of the jar, Hermione approached Harry. "Well, come on then."

He was about to take it from her when he heard a shriek. "Ginny," he said, and automatically ran to the shore.

Ginny was splashing in the cold water, clinging to the roots of a tree. Something appeared to be pulling at her jeans.

"Gin!" Harry yelled. "What--"

"Grindylows!" she spluttered.

"What are they doing in a river?" Hermione wondered.

Harry drew his wand. _"Impedimenta!" _he yelled, carefully aiming for the sharp claws of the grindylow tugging at Ginny's leg. _"Stupefy!"_

"There are too many of them," Hermione said, pulling her wand out.

With no regard to circumstances, Harry dove into the water.

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked, grabbing for her wand. "Ron, help-- _Impedimenta!"_

Retrieving his wand from his back pocket, Ron ran up to the waterfront, Stunning several grindylows as Harry kicked at the ones who had latched onto Ginny.

Just as they were beginning to overcome the grindylows, a great horse rose from the water, with bulrushes for a mane and glowing green eyes.

"Blimey," Ron gasped, "what is that?"

"It's a kelpie," Hermione told him, her eyes wide. "Harry, look out!"

But the water-demon was already working its magic. Leaving Ginny to herself, Harry floated out into the open water, entranced by the kelpie's eyes.

Hermione thought fast. "We need a bridle."

"Right then, I'll just conjure one up out of midair," he said sarcastically.

"We passed that riding place--" She closed her eyes. _"Accio bridle!" _

"It's not coming," Ron said, watching wildly as the horse took Harry onto its back. Just as the words escaped his mouth, Hermione was holding a bridle in her hands.

"Harry!" screamed Ginny, rendered helpless by a few grindylows who had survived the attack. Ron tried to Stun them, but his spells only hit the surface of the water.

_"Ego locus vos," _Hermione intoned, and used her wand to place the bridle over the kelpie's head, just as Harry's head slipped beneath the surface.

Immediately, the kelpie rose to the surface, docile, its head bowed.

"Harry?" Hermione ventured.

He shook his head, as if coming out of a daze. "Thanks," he said.

Hermione grinned. "No problem."

Taking the reins in his hand, he urged the kelpie towards Ginny, letting it take the last grindylow into its mouth as Ron pulled his sister out of the water. He jumped off, tumbling onto the shoreline, and Hermione helped him up.

"We've got to get you two someplace warm," she said, "or you're going to get hypothermia."

Ginny peeled off her wet sweater, revealing her Holyhead Harpies tank top, and wrapped up in Ron's proffered jacket.

"Do you want my sweater?" Hermione said to Harry, after scooping up a jarful of water and tightening the lid.

"No," he replied, "thanks. I'll be okay." Immediately, he reached inside his sweatshirt pocket, and breathed a sigh of relief-- the card was still there. He felt, that if he could just keep Dumbledore with him, that he might just make it out of this whole thing okay.

"Can' believe you seen a real kelpie," said Stan Shunpike as the four of them boarded the Knight Bus the next morning.

"Bloody hell," Ron said, "how'd you know?"

Stan shrugged. "You tell the 'ousekeeper at the Leaky Cauldron, she tells old Tom, Tom tells the barmaid, an' the barmaid tells me." He leaned over to Harry. "You as' me, she's got a real thing for me." He winked.

Hermione stifled a laugh.

"'Choo laughin' at?" he said sharply to Hermione, who quickly sobered up.

"Nothing," she said demurely, and stepped onto the bus.

"Whereabouts you goin'?" asked Stan.

"King's Cross," Ginny said.

"King's Cross. Take 'er away, Ern," Stan said, clapping the driver on the shoulder.

With a moan, Ron put a hand to his head. "Couldn't we have just taken a taxi?"

Ginny giggled. "I've never ridden the Knight Bus before," she said.

They made it to King's Cross without Ron getting sick, though he came very close several times, and boarded the Hogwarts Express.

"I've never seen it so bare," Ginny remarked.

"Well, it's usually just Muggle-borns who live near London that take it during the holidays," Hermione noted. "Plus, there aren't as many students enrolled at Hogwarts this year, and a lot of parents wanted their kids to stay--" She broke off, seeing Draco Malfoy enter a compartment alone.

Ron's face morphed into a thundercloud. "Not going to go sit with your little boyfriend?" he said irritably.

Hermione wasn't paying attention. She was thinking of the way Draco had kissed her in the courtyard-- it had been electrifying, it had been full of something at once beautiful and frightening, and she longed for more.

"Would you excuse me?" she said, almost breathlessly, and slipped out of the compartment.

"I'll never understand," Ginny said.

Harry shrugged. "I don't think it would matter if we did."

"Hi," Hermione said carefully, edging into Draco's compartment.

He looked up. "Hi."

"How come you're not at Hogwarts?" she asked, sitting down across from him. "Aren't you afraid that--"

"No," he said sharply, "I'm not."

"It's okay if you are."

"Well I'm not," he repeated.

"Okay." They sat in silence for a moment as the train began to move.

"So..."

"What?" Draco's face was sour.

"Fine." She turned to go.

He shot to his feet and caught her by the shoulders. "Don't." He paused, sighing. "I am afraid, Hermione. I just-- I don't want it to take me over." He sank back down into his seat.

This time, she sat next to him. "I want you to kiss me again," she said shyly.

An impish smile made its way onto Draco's lips. "Of course you do. It's all you've been thinking about the whole holiday, isn't it?" He plunged his fingers into her thick hair.

"No," she said automatically. "I actually did have to fight a kelpie, and several grindylows, and..."

He pulled back, much to Hermione's chagrin. "Kelpies and grindylows?"

"Yes," she said. "They were in the Thames when we--" She stopped short, wondering if it would be a betrayal of Harry to tell him what they were doing at the river.

Draco, however, didn't seem to care. "If he's got control of the sea creatures now--" He looked down at her. "That's not good." His gaze drifted to the window, where tiny houses and big fields were whizzing past. "But let's worry about it later. I haven't given you any Christmas present." He leaned close to her; she could smell his cologne, citrus and spice.

But Hermione turned away. She needed to know one thing. "Whose side are you on, Draco? Who are you going to fight for?"

Draco regarded her with a calm gaze. "You."

Something in his eyes made her believe he wasn't lying. "So about that Christmas present..." Blushing furiously, she tilted her face up to his.

He kissed her. "You know," he said quietly, "I haven't got you a Christmas present since I've known you."

"Birthday presents, either," she whispered, as his lips brushed hers.

"Halloween," he said with another kiss, "St. George's Day... May Day..."

"You have a lot to make up for," she replied with a smile, as the landscape faded into a blur behind them.


	19. Chapter 20

"Oh," Ginny said cheerfully, stepping off the train in Hogsmeade, "look at the snow!" It was falling from the sky like feather-light crystals, covering all of the village with an iridescent dust.

"It is pretty," Hermione agreed, following her out.

Harry and Ron loaded their bags into one of the thestral-drawn carriages. "C'mon," Harry said to Ginny, putting an arm around her.

Pausing to catch a snowflake on her tongue, Ginny let Harry lead her away. The four of them climbed into a carriage.

"Aren't you coming?" said Hermione to Draco, but he didn't seem to hear her. "Draco?" She stepped out onto the snow-covered ground, pulling her scarf around her neck.

"So this is what they look like," he said softly, reaching up to touch its leathery skin.

To Hermione, it looked like he was touching thin air, but she knew what was there. "The thestrals," she whispered, realizing. "You can see them now."

Tears welled in Draco's eyes. Hermione moved closer to him and he turned away, trying to hide any emotion. "Come on," she prodded gently.

He shook his head. "I'm not going with them," he said.

"You're right." Hermione nodded. "We can take our own carriage."

"No," Draco said, "you go on. I just-- I just want to be alone for a bit."

"Are you sure?" An expression of concern softened her face.

He nodded.

"Alright," she conceded, and squeezed his hand. "I'll see you back at the castle." She climbed in with Harry, Ron, and Ginny, and watched him fade into the distance as they made their way down the path.

"What's your problem?" Hermione snapped, glaring at Ron, whose face was cemented into a permanent scowl.

"Making a big show of being sad with the thestrals," Ron scoffed, "stupid git..."

"He watched his mother die, you insensitive louse--"

"It was Dumbledore dying that made him able to see them!" he shot back.

Harry thought back. "No," he said slowly, "Malfoy never saw Snape kill him. His head was turned."

"You're defending him?" Ron said incredulously.

"Ronald," Ginny scorned, "you are acting like a child."

They sat in unhappy silence until they arrived at Hogwarts, where Ron and Hermione both announced that they were going straight off to their dormitories and not emerging for the rest of the night.

"Wonderful night for a walk," Harry said aside to Ginny, and she giggled.

But Harry's winter stroll with Ginny was postponed, as Professor McGonagall was waiting for him at the doors.

"Potter," she greeted him, "would you come with me, please?"

His eyes round, he turned to Ginny. "I'll let you know when I'm finished," he said.

"I'll wait in the commonroom," she told him, and he set off with the Headmistress.

"Professor," he said, running to keep up with her quick stride, "what's this all about?"

"Hm?" she said absently. "Oh; you're not in trouble, I assure you," she replied, judging that to be a good enough answer. "You have a visitor."

"A visitor? Who--"

"Well, you'll see, won't you?" She smiled down at him.

His heart leapt. His first thought was of Sirius-- somehow, he'd come back from behind the veil. Or perhaps it was Hagrid, who had only been on some secret mission from the Order before, and his death had been faked? Or perhaps, just perhaps-- but as he felt the card of Dumbledore in his pocket, he knew that wasn't going to happen.

But when they entered the room behind the gargoyle, Harry found himself staring at Rufus Scrimgeour.

"Harry!" he exclaimed, rising to his feet. In his hands he clutched a bowler hat. "Good to see you."

He exchanged a sidelong glance with Professor McGonagall, who gave him a half-apologetic look.

"What do you want?" said Harry crisply.

Nervously, he twisted his hat. "To apologize."

Harry had not expected this; he sat down hard in a chair. "Apologize?"

"You were right," Scrimgeour said, "Dumbledore was right." He sighed. "I-- I'm in a difficult position, Harry, trying to clean up Fudge's mistakes, dealing with Voldemort-- and with the Death Eaters who escaped from Azkaban over the holidays--"

"And again, you want me to be your poster--"

"No," Scrimgeour said. "No. If you want to support the Ministry, that would be wonderful, but I'm not going to push it any more. I've come because I'm beginning to realize that the only way to stop him is through you. So I've come to-- to ask what I can do to help." He squared his shoulders.

Professor McGonagall looked from Harry to Scrimgeour and back again.

"Minister," he began slowly, "do you remember a witch by the name of Hepzibah Smith?"

"Smith," he mused, "Smith. I don't know."

"She was a case of yours once. You would have been quite young," Harry told him, "just starting out in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"Ah," Scrimgeour said, apparently unabashed by the details of his life that Harry knew. "Older woman with a big treasure collection. Killed by her house-elf."

"What was the poison used to kill her?" asked Harry.

"How is this important?" Scrimgeour wanted to know.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "It is essential."

"I just don't see how accidental murder by a house-elf fits into the grand scheme of things--"

"Look, do you want to help or don't you?"

"I don't know what it was," Scrimgeour said truthfully. "But I can find out."

"Do that," Harry said, "and then we'll talk about how we may be able to help each other."

Scrimgeour, taking the hint that the conversation was over, got to his feet. "Thank you," he said politely, extending his hand.

Harry shook it.

"Professor," Harry began, as soon as Scrimgeour was out the door, "I wonder if you might be able to do me a favor?"

"Yes?" She adjusted her glasses.

"Could you get Melody Salpeter to come down here?"

She cleared her throat. "I am not here to do your bidding," she said curtly. "Just because the Minister--"

"I think her wand has a piece of Voldemort's soul concealed inside it," Harry said flatly.

She looked quite taken aback, but sent for Melody at once.

"I'll be right back," Harry said, and dashed off down the hall to retrieve his jar of river water.

"What did McGonagall want?" Ginny asked as he dashed into the commonroom.

"It was Scrimgeour," he called, lumbering up the stairs and grabbing the jar. "And I'm about to take out a seventh of Voldemort's soul."

"Then can we take our walk?" she asked petulantly, giving him a pouty smile.

He grinned. "Of course. See you in a bit." He planted a kiss on her copper-colored head and ran out the door.

When he arrived back at the Headmistress' office, Melody was sitting on one of the chairs, her feet barely touching the floor.

"Hi, Harry," she said congenially.

"Hi, Melody."

"What's the jar of water for?"

"Do you have your wand?" he asked.

She nodded and produced it from the folds of her robes.

"Brilliant," Harry said, and twisted the top off the jar.

She leaned forward, concerned. "What are you going to do?"

_How exactly do I explain Horcruxes to an eleven-year old? _thought Harry. "I'm testing it," he told her. "I just wanted to see if it was really Ravenclaw's wand."

"Ravenclaw? Rowena Ravenclaw?" she said excitedly, handing it over. "How do we test it?"

"Well, we're going to drop it in this jar of water, and--" Harry tapped his wand on the side of the glass. _"Animus abolesco, mortalitas exsisto!" _

The crackling little fire went out immediately, and the windows clattered in their frames. Melody gripped the arms of her chair. "Professor? Harry? What's going--" She cut herself off with a yelp as the floor beneath her shook. A jet of green light shot out from the tip of Melody's wand, burning a small hole in the ceiling. And almost as soon as it had happened, it was over.

"Yes," Harry confirmed, his pulse racing, "that certainly is Rowena Ravenclaw's wand."

Professor McGonagall glanced at Harry. "Why don't you re-light the fire, Melody?" She pulled the girl's wand out of the jar of water. "You do know how?"

"Oh yes." Melody dried her wand on her robes, and pointed it at the grate. _"Incendio!"_

Flames shot out of the tip of her wand and enfolded the logs in fire.

"Well done," approved the Headmistress, glancing at Harry as if to say _Well, at least the wand still works._

"Quite a piece of history," Harry said to Melody again, and looked to the Headmistress. "I think I'm going to go for a walk now."

"Very well," said Professor McGonagall. "Have a nice night, Potter."

"You too, Professor."


	20. Chapter 21

"Don't go that way," said a fifth-year, crossing paths with Harry in the corridors. He was on his way to the dungeons for Potions.

"Why not?"

"Peeves," came the reply. "Looks like he's in a messy mood today."

"Thanks," Harry called, and took an alternate path to Slughorn's classroom.

"Hi, Harry," said Ernie Macmillan. "Have a good holiday?"

"Very relaxing," Harry replied, lying through his teeth.

"So you had time to finish that essay?"

Harry hit his head against the stone wall. "Great," he muttered, and pulled the forgotten parchment out of his bag.

Ernie smiled ruefully. "See you in class."

"Yeah, see you." Harry scratched down a quick ending, then did a quick once-over of it.

"Procrastinating?" Hermione smiled down at him.

He got up, and they turned to go into class. "Oh, just-- revising."

"Yeah, right."

_"Hem, hem."_

Harry stopped dead in his tracks.

Hermione watched him, watched his lips settle into a resolved, thin line.

_"Hem, hem."_

"You," Harry said stonily, "have no right to be here."

"Turn around and face me, Mr. Potter," said Dolores Umbridge, in a sugary-sweet voice. "We have no quarrel, now, do we?" She smiled, and Harry turned.

"You are a loathsome little toad," Harry said matter-of-factly, glaring directly at her. Hermione suppressed a laugh.

Her forced smile twitched, but she remained docile. "Oh, come now, Mr. Potter--"

Harry's Potions essay, rolled into a neat little scroll, was getting crushed in his palm. He held up the back of his hand. "I must not tell lies."

She blinked back at him.

"What are you doing here? You must really need me for something, since you didn't Crucio me after I called you a toad."

If she was annoyed, she didn't show it. Head tilted at an angle, her pink headband meticulously placed, she grinned at him once again. "We have such a fine history between us," she said kindly. "Rufus-- well, the Minister, to you-- is interested in your help."

"I've spoken with him," Harry said shortly. "We have an understanding. And not once did he mention you."

"I don't know if you're aware, but I am poised to become the advisor to the Minister." She paused, as if she expected someone to congratulate her. "Surely I would be in a position to help you. And I thought," Umbridge said, a foul smile surfacing, "maybe you'd like to help me?"

"You're very foolish," Hermione said patronizingly, "to think he would help you after all you've done."

"At least for the Ministry," she said, almost desperately. "Potter. Think of it-- the power you'd have, the influence--"

"I don't want either," Harry said.

"Potter--" She leaned forward, as if she was going to seize the front of his robes.

"Potter," said Professor McGonagall, appearing in the corridor, "must get to class. And as for you--"

Umbridge glared defiantly at her.

"You no longer have authority here," she said curtly. "I suggest you leave at once."

Attempting to keep a shred of dignity, Umbridge straightened her robes and stuck her nose in the air. As she turned to leave, Draco came around the corner.

"Draco?"

He stopped. His mouth hung open. "What are you doing here?" came his ungracious response.

_"Hem, hem." _She adjusted her purse. "I might ask you the same thing." With a bright smile, she marched on past.

Hermione turned to Draco. "What did she mean by that?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Never liked her anyway."

Despite himself, Harry grinned.

"So," Draco said breezily, "Veritaserum's done today." He turned to Harry. "Are we going to test it on me?"

"You?"

"Sure," he returned, dropping his books on the table. "I figured you'd have all sorts of questions for me-- what exactly went on in the courtyard at the Snowflake Ball, if my aim is to seduce Hermione and turn her into the next great female Death Eater--"

Harry didn't quite know how to respond to this, until he saw that Draco was grinning.

"You're a bastard," he said roughly.

He snorted with laughter. "Don't I know it." Tossing a vial to Harry, he greeted Ron. "Weasley," he said, slapping him on the back as if they were old friends. "It's truth day today."

Ron glowered at him. "You're a git. How's that for truth?"

Draco smiled brightly. "You're a ray of sunshine."

Shielding her face with her textbook, Hermione tried to hide her laughter.

"Welcome back!" boomed Slughorn, edging through the doorway. "Our Veritaserum is finished today, and we're going to test it out."

"Bloody hell," Draco said, as Padma brought their cauldron over, "I was only kidding."

Harry chuckled. "Are you still our volunteer?" Using the vial Draco had tossed to him, he filled it to the brim.

Draco grabbed it. "Bottoms up," he said, draining it, then turned defiantly to Ron.

"Are you or are you not the world's biggest wanker?"

"Not," Draco answered. "Matter of fact, I hardly ever--"

"Draco!" Hermione reproved, laughing, and he stopped.

Stealthily, Harry filled up another vial of potion and pocketed it.

"Harry!" Hermione gasped. "What are you--"

"Shh," he hissed. "I've been doing this all year. I thought one of them might come in handy, like Felix did last year."

Her eyes were wide. "That's against school rules, it is, you'll--"

"Oh, Hermione," Harry sighed, a smile playing on his lips. "Don't tell me you haven't broken any school rules before."

"Your turn, Potter," Draco said impatiently.

"Are you working for Voldemort?" he asked, looking sober.

"No," came the answer.

"Had to ask."

"I know."

Blaise Zabini sauntered over. "True or false: Hermione Granger is the most disgusting Mudblood to ever step foot in this castle?"

Draco leered at him. "False."

"Professor," called Zabini, "I think this group has got their potion wrong--"

But before anyone knew what was happening, Draco had reached back and delivered a sharp uppercut to Zabini's chin.

"Blaise!" shrieked Pansy, dashing to his side. She glared up at Draco.

"What's going on here?" demanded Slughorn, stepping between Zabini and Draco. "Mister Malfoy?"

"He called Hermione a Mudblood," Draco said stoutly. "He deserved it."

"Be that as it may," Slughorn replied, "physical violence is not to be used in this classroom. Ten points from Slytherin."

Draco was about to protest, but instead turned to Zabini. "We'll settle this later," he groused.

Hermione took him by the arm and brought him over to the corner. "You're still under the influence of the potion, aren't you?"

"Yes," Draco said automatically. "But-- how do you know if I'm lying?" He grinned.

She flicked him on the arm. "Did you ever have an embarrassing nickname?"

He made a face. "Yes."

"What was it?"

"My grandmother used to call me 'Little Dragon.'"

"Oh, that's not that bad," Hermione said, "I--"

"Sure it is," Draco replied. "Try hearing it when you're fifteen with Crabbe and Goyle in the room. I've never heard the end of it; do you realize the implications? Now did you have a real question, or--"

"Do you love me?" she blurted out.

Draco's face turned the color of a ripe tomato. "Of course," he said quietly.

"Even though I'm Muggle-born?"

"I thought I told you, I don't care..."

Harry joined them. "Nice punch, Malfoy," he said stiffly.

He grinned. "You think so?" Dropping onto a stool, he glanced at Hermione. "I learned from example," he said. "You never forget a good punch."

Hermione laughed.

Later that night, Harry and Ron sat with Padma Patil in the library, working furiously on the twelve inches of parchment Professor Wingfield had demanded, when an owl dropped a letter in Harry's lap.

"Thank you," Harry said to the owl, and reached for the envelope. He broke the seal-- an ornate letter "S"-- and drew out the piece of paper.

_Harry--_

_I'm pleased to inform you that I've spoken with several retired officials and went through some old files, and I have discovered that the poison used to kill Hepzibah Smith was called Nightshade Powder._

_Also, word has reached me that Dolores Umbridge came to visit with you today. I wanted to let you know that her behavior appalled me, and I have decided to hire Mr. Arthur Weasley as my advisor, whom I believe you are on quite good terms with._

_I look forward to working together in the future._

_Yours,_

_Rufus Scrimgeour,_

_Minister of Magic_

"Ron," Harry said excitedly.

Just at that moment, Artemis flew in through the window with a letter for Ron.

"Read it," he said. "I'll bet it's your mum."

Ron unfolded the note and let out a whoop. "He got it!"

Padma jumped, startled. "Who got what?"

"My dad," he said, jumping up from his seat, "got the job!"

She was utterly confused. "I--"

"He's now the top advisor to the Minister," he explained.

"Oh, Ron," she gushed, standing up to give him a hug, "that's absolutely wonderful!"

Ron grinned, and without thinking, kissed her full on the lips.

She looked stunned.

"Oh," he stammered, "I didn't mean-- I mean, I'm-- I--"

She was blushing bright red, grinning from ear to ear. "Ron," she said flatly, "stop it." And she pulled him back towards her.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ron caught a glimpse of Harry. He was smiling. "About time," he mouthed.

Ron just beamed.


	21. Chapter 22

"So," Ginny said brightly, sliding into the spot next to her brother, "word is that you're back to snogging constantly."

"We do not," Ron said defensively, "snog constantly."

Ginny laughed. "Sure." She leaned over. "If it's any consolation, I like Padma a right side better than Lavender."

"Yeah," Ron said, "because that's what I'm worried about. Your approval."

She laughed as Padma slid in next to Ron, gave him a peck on the cheek, and began to shell a handful of pistachios.

"I can't stay around for too long," Padma lamented. "Trelawney is really packing on the homework."

"Really?" Harry said, genuinely surprised.

"Yeah. We're studying the Minor Arcana right now."

Before Harry had time to ask what the Minor Arcana was, Hermione and Draco settled themselves at the table.

"Morning, Weasley," Draco said affably. "I see that one of you lot was in the _Prophet_ this morning." He handed over a copy of the newspaper; Hermione was grinning.

"Yeah," he said. "My dad got the job. What of it?"

Draco shrugged. "Just thought you might be interested in the clipping. Send it to your mum or something."

"Thanks," Ron mumbled.

Amused, Draco studied his expression. "You mean, I haven't offended you in any way? Surely you hate me."

After a long pause, Ron shook his head, staring down into his cup.

"Well, that's unsettling." Draco settled back in his chair. "I must be losing my touch."

Ron stared at him with a hardened glare. Draco was kicked back, hands folded behind his head, a tiny smile on his lips.

"You need to let me get back to my roots, Hermione," Draco said lazily. "I need to go back to the Manor and host a Death Eater luncheon... we can discuss some Dark magic over crumpets and chamomile tea... maybe torture a Squib or two..." He paused. "But there is no way I'm going to let Voldemort bring the pastries." He made a face. "You never know what's in them."

"Don't you know this is serious?" Ron shouted, but he was laughing.

Padma smiled and rose from her chair. "I ought to get off to the library," she said.

"Wait," Harry said. "What is the Minor Arcana?" He was truly curious.

"Oh." Padma settled back into her chair and pulled a tarot deck from her bag. "It refers to the tarot cards. It comprises four suits--" She laid four cards out. "Wands, pentacles-- which are sometimes called coins-- cups, and swords. Each suit represents a different element, class, and faculty."

"What?" Ron was confused.

She smiled. "For instance, take the cup. The cup represents water, clergy, and emotions and love." She tapped her finger on the wand. "The wand represents fire, peasantry, and creativity and energy. The sword--"

Harry was noticing a pattern. "Something to do with bravery, am I right?"

"Well, you could say that," Padma told him. "The sword represents nobility and military, and reason and will."

He let out a low whistle. "My God."

"Care to let us in on it?" Hermione asked.

"Ravenclaw's _wand. _Ravenclaw wanted the brightest students; the wand represents fire and creativity. Hufflepuff's _cup._ Hufflepuff wanted to let everyone in; the cup represents love. Gryffindor-- his only known relic is the sword. And what do swords represent?"

"Blimey," Ron said. "So you think Gryffindor's sword--"

"No," Harry said immediately. "Not possible. Remember, Dumbledore said--"

"What are we talking about?" Draco interrupted.

Harry and Hermione exchanged a quick glance. "Getting rid of Voldemort," Harry said flatly.

Draco leaned forward. "Where do I sign?"

"Really?" Ron said.

"The man murdered my mother," Draco spat. "I won't be kissing his boots."

"I think," Padma suggested, "you should come talk with Professor Trelawney. Now, before you all start hacking me to bits--" she held up a hand-- "sometimes she really does know what she's talking about."

Harry knew very well that she did, and allowed Padma to walk him to Trelawney's classroom; but when they arrived, the room was empty.

"Professor?" called Padma. She walked down into the classroom. "Professor Trelawney?"

There was a clattering noise, and Trelawney rose out of a cloud of incense, sherry glass in hand. "Yes, dear girl?"

"Actually, Harry had some questions for you..." She trailed off.

Harry took a deep breath. "I'm looking for a cup," he began.

Harry thundered down the spiral staircase and nearly tripped over Ron and Ginny, who had been sitting on the bottom stair.

"What's the word?" Ron asked.

"She says the Chamber of Secrets has to be re-opened," Harry said grimly.

"Let's go, then," Ron said stoutly.

"Good, because I am going to need one member of the Weasley family."

Ginny's eyes widened. "What?"

"Trelawney said that I would need either you or Ron, Zacharias Smith, and Melody Salpeter. And the Sorting Hat."

Ron furrowed his brow. "I don't--"

Luna's vacant voice sounded in the corridor. "Zacharias is down the hall," she said. "I just passed him."

"Thanks, Luna," Harry said quickly, and dashed off down the hallway. "Oy! Zacharias!"

He turned, blueberry muffin in hand. "Hello, Harry. Ron, Hermione." He paid no mind to Ginny and Draco.

"Zacharias, I was wondering if you'd mind lending us a hand?" Harry thought fast, trying to devise a way to ask him to go into the Chamber.

"Sure," he said brightly. "With what?"

"Well," Harry said slowly, "we're going to look for a cup. Very valuable, belonged to a nice old witch named Hepzibah Smith--"

"My gran was named Hepzibah," Zacharias told him, an odd look crossing his face. "Two of her greatest treasures turned up missing after she was poisoned by that rotten old house-elf."

"A cup and a locket?" Harry guessed.

"How did you know?"

"Your gran's enemy was someone much worse than a house-elf," Harry said darkly. "Let's get Melody and go pay Myrtle a visit."


	22. Chapter 23

Harry slowly pushed the door of the girls' lavatory; it opened with a creak.

"The entrance is in _here_?" Draco did not seem convinced.

"Sure," Harry said. "All you have to do is say something in Parseltongue--" But before he could demonstrate his fluency in snake-language, Moaning Myrtle swooped down on them.

"Hello, Harry," she said sweetly.

"Hi, Myrtle," Harry replied.

"Oh, and Draco, too!" She sidled up next to him with a girlish giggle. Hermione snorted with laughter.

"No offense, Myrtle," Harry said gingerly, "but we're really not here to chat."

Her innocent smile turned into a scowl. "Of course," she sniffed. "No one cares to talk to Myrtle..."

"We'll come back," promised Hermione hastily. "Won't we?" She looked encouragingly at Draco and Harry.

Reluctantly, they nodded.

Mollified, Myrtle floated back to the U-bend, while Harry whispered a command in Parseltongue. The sinks parted, revealing the opening to the Chamber.

"Who's going first?" asked Hermione.

Without a word, Draco jumped into the hole. "Bloody hell, it's nasty down here," he called, and Hermione jumped in after him, lighting her wand. Ron followed.

"Go ahead," Harry said.

"I'm not too sure about this," Zacharias said.

"It's fine. Just go."

Zacharias jumped, with Melody close behind him.

"Hold my hand?" Ginny squeaked.

Harry clasped her fingers in his, and they went sliding down the grimy, disgusting pipe, landing with a thud on the Chamber's floor.

Ginny clung tightly to Harry as they got to their feet. "Lumos," she whispered, peering around at the walls.

"This way," Harry directed, leading the troop deeper into the cave.

"Uh, Harry," Ron spoke up, "how d'you suppose we get through this?" He nodded at the mountain of rubble that they'd left behind in their second year.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Reducto!"

Harry walked through the hole that Hermione had cleared and set eyes on the emerald-eyed serpents. "Open for us," he commanded, but his voice came out in the same whisper-silk voice.

"Ugh. What smells?" Zacharias said disgustedly, putting his hand over his nose. Stepping over the threshold, he came face-to-face with a dead, rotting Basilisk. Melody shrieked.

"They just left it down here?" Hermione was nauseated.

"What _is_ it?" After her initial shock, Melody was intrigued. She stepped up to get a closer look.

"A dead basilisk," said Hermione.

Harry averted his eyes. "Water," he coughed. "Look for water."

Hermione set her wand in her open palm. _"Point me," _she said, and the wand snapped to attention.

"This way," she said, leading them due west.

"Why?" Melody wanted to know.

"In Greek tradition," Hermione said, "water is associated with many things, one of which is the western point of the compass. If Voldemort really did hide the cup down here, I think it's a pretty safe bet that he's following these old superstitions." The light from her wand revealed a large tile set into the floor, inlaid with the shape of an upside-down triangle. "See?" She gestured at it. "That's the alchemical symbol for water."

"How do you know all this?" Draco knelt to run his fingers over the triangle.

"I thought about becoming an alchemist," Hermione said matter-of-factly.

"Hey," Draco said, "there's air coming from the cracks."

Harry considered Ron. "Think it's under there?"

"There's only one way to find out." Hermione pointed her wand at the tile. _"Wingardium leviosa."_

Up came the large stone, and Hermione levitated it safely to the side.

"Not another tunnel, I hope." Melody shuddered.

"Nope," Zacharias said, peering over the edge. "Stairs. "C'mon."

The companions inched down the staircase into a greenish dungeon-looking corridor. The moment they stepped off the last stair, the entire corridor went black, and the scrape of the stone as it returned to place came as a dull echo above their heads.

"Lumos," Harry said firmly, shaking his wand. Nothing happened. "Lumos!"

Ginny clung to him tighter than ever. "What's going on?" Her voice was tight and high-pitched.

But Hermione laughed. "Well played, Voldemort," she said.

"What do you mean?" Ron snapped.

"He's shut our air supply off," Hermione explained.

"Well, that's something to laugh about!" Zacharias shrieked.

Hermione sighed. "We just have to give birth to air," she said, as if it was the most obvious solution in the world.

If Ron could have seen her, he would have slapped her. "What?"

"The Minor Arcana," Hermione said impatiently. "Don't you see?"

"Apparently not!" Harry shouted.

"Melody has Ravenclaw's wand. Zacharias is Hepzibah Smith's grandson; the Voldemort is the heir of Slytherin. So, Ron--"

"You're saying I'm descended from Gryffindor?" he squeaked.

"Well, you have to be, don't you?"

He gulped. "So what do I do?"

"Air is the element of the swords," Hermione said. "Air gives birth to fire, which gives birth to water, which gives birth to earth."

"That's beautiful, Hermione, but it doesn't help me much!"

"What about the hat?" Draco said loudly.

Ginny gave a little start. "I have it," she said, sticking it on her hand to extend it to her brother; instead, she rammed her knuckles into the hilt of a sword. "Oww," she said softly, and pulled a ruby-encrusted sword from the hat.

At once, the room became a brilliant pastel blue, and the dull, damp air turned into a fresh, intoxicating breeze. The breeze quickly turned into a brisk wind, and the wind began to pick up.

"Give it to Melody!" Hermione yelled.

Ginny handed the hat to Melody. Grasping the edge of it, she thrust her arm inside and pulled out her own wand. Flames began to lick the sides of the room with urgency. "Here!" yelped Melody, thrusting it at Zacharias.

He reached inside and, with a deep breath, removed a long, knobbly walking stick. Water began to spill from the cracks in the ceiling.

"We don't have an heir of Slytherin," Hermione noted.

"Thanks for that," Ron said caustically. "Now what?" The flood was already up to his ankles.

"You try," Zacharias suggested, tossing the hat to Draco. He reached in; nothing.

"This damn Hat almost put you in Slytherin," Draco said, handing it to Harry. "Maybe you can get it to believe you're a true heir."

Harry sighed, closed his eyes, and plunged his hand into the hat. When he brought it out, he was holding a live snake, which he immediately dropped onto the ground; the floor hardened and the water washed away and green grass carpeted the stone floor.

"Not bad, Potter," Draco approved smugly. "Now what?"

But his question was about to be answered. A sapling had just sprouted from the ground. They watched as it grew, unfurling leaves, stretching branches out over the cave. A hollow appeared in the trunk, and inside sat a cup, shining in the soft light.

"There it is," Zacharias said in awe. He reached for it, but was immediately knocked to the ground. Next, Ginny tried, but she was likewise thrown to the floor.

"No," Draco said, "no. It's all of you together. This is what the Sorting Hat has been telling us about since the beginning."

"The houses united," Harry said, still wondering why he was able to represent Slytherin.

The four of them reached their hands into the hollow at once, and placed their hands around the rim, bringing it out into the light.

"My dad will be ecstatic," Zacharias said, raptly gazing at the antique cup. He looked over at Harry. "I-- do you have to destroy it?"

Harry shook his head. "No," he replied. "I only have to rid it of its evil."


	23. Chapter 24

"I cannot believe," Percy Weasley said to Dolores Umbridge, standing in her office, "that Scrimgeour hired my father over you, and then fired you."

"I am just as appalled," said Umbridge crisply.

"I've resigned in protest," Percy said, straightening his shoulders.

Umbridge stopped to smile at him. "How kind of you," she said in her syrupy voice. "But really, you shouldn't have. Without people like you, the Ministry is going to fall to pieces."

This satisfied Percy. "What are you going to do?"

She fastened her satchel. "There's only one place I can go to continue my work."

"I should like to come with you," resolved Percy.

Umbridge considered this. "Would you really?"

"Yes," Percy said stoutly.

"Very well," Umbridge said. "Come along."

"The _Prophet_ is full of good news today," Hermione said, handing a copy of the paper to Harry.

"Dementors disappear," Harry read. "Unspeakables from the Ministry of Magic have led the Dementors through what Department head Paul Croaker called a 'veil of death,' through which they will not be able to pass back into our world. It appears that one of You-Know-Who's weapons has been disarmed."

"Is that the veil?" Ron said haltingly.

"I would assume." Harry folded the paper.

"And look inside," she ordered excitedly.

"Dolores Umbridge fired for threats; Junior Undersecretary Percy Weasley resigns in protest." Harry let out a low whistle. "You were right. Great news."

"Have you asked Slughorn about making the poison yet?"

Harry nodded. "He's going to do it. I reckon he still feels sort of responsible for Voldemort's Horcruxes."

"What was in it, as a matter of interest?" asked Hermione.

"Powdered belladonna berries, ground asphodel root, and dried and crushed wolfsbane."

Hermione gritted her teeth. "Sounds lovely."

"He said he should have it done for me in a few days," Harry told her, "so I can rid the cup of Voldemort's soul and give it to Zacharias' family."

"Are you alright?" she asked.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. I'm still a little set off by the fact that we were down in the Chamber, and I was allowed to represent Slytherin. I mean, Melody and Zacharias were there because they were the heirs of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff."

"What about me and Ginny?" Ron asked. "D'you really think--"

"I don't know," Harry said truthfully. "I'm not the heir of Slytherin."

"You could be," Hermione said logically. "What if you were from one line and Voldemort is from another?"

Harry tried to construct a family tree in his mind, but he got a headache in seconds flat. "I don't know, Hermione. As for you, Ron--" He dug his palms into his eye sockets. "Maybe you should research some family history."

"Your family is pureblood," Draco pointed out.

Ron laughed. "I don't think it's going to last. Bill married a part-veela; Charlie has a Muggle-born girlfriend; George is dating that Nickie girl from the Diagon Alley store, who has Muggle parents; and it looks like my sister is going to marry a half-blood." He grinned at Harry.

"What about Percy?" Harry said, as a matter of interest.

"I don't think he counts as a member of the family anymore," Ron said airily, "and even if he was looking for a wife, it looks like he has a part-demon, part-toad."

They laughed.

The village of Hogsmeade was home to many spectacular and frightening places, such as Draco's hollow tree and the Shrieking Shack. But on the edge of Hogsmeade sat the real threat of the village, a dirty little house on the north end of the village. No one assumed it was unused-- an angry-looking tabby cat could be seen stalking the grounds, owls frequently came and went, and the gaunt, bony face of an older woman appeared at the window now and then. Everyone assumed it was an old, reclusive witch who inhabited the house-- those who had seen her face might have thought twice about her harmlessness. But no one guessed who she really was.

"Dolores," Bellatrix Lestrange greeted her. "Won't you come in?" She eyed Percy suspiciously. "Who's your guest?"

"Percy Weasley," Umbridge replied, leaving her satchel and gloves in the foyer.

"Weasley?" Bellatrix's voice was suddenly sharp.

"He's not like his family," Umbridge said dismissively. "He will be loyal. Where is the Dark Lord?"

Percy's heart skipped a beat. He was in a house with Bellatrix Lestrange, and Dolores Umbridge was talking about Voldemort with reverence.

But then again, perhaps Umbridge was right. Fudge had never liked Dumbledore, and Scrimgeour seemed to be heading things in the wrong direction. Voldemort _did_ hate Dumbledore. And he was against Harry Potter, whom Fudge thought was clinically insane.

_Maybe they all have it wrong,_ Percy thought. _Maybe Dolores is right._

"You work at the Ministry," Avery squeaked, coming around the corner.

"I knew it," Bellatrix growled. _"Crucio!"_

Avery leered. "You're that rotten, smug..."

"Stop it!" Umbridge shouted. _"Finite incantatem."_

"I quit today," he went on, "after Scrimgeour hired my incompetent dunderhead of a father as his advisor. The Ministry, you know-- all they do is kiss the arse of Harry Potter. It's like a cult." He struggled to get to his feet, and stumbled. "Well, I'll tell you. You lot are making more and more sense these days." He drew himself up straight and looked squarely at Bellatrix.

Bellatrix regarded him with a suspicious eye. "Why should I trust you?" she demanded. "They could be placing you here as a spy."

Percy swayed, then drew his wand. Immediately, every Death Eater in the room pointed theirs at the red-headed intruder. Slowly, as if he didn't even see them, he poked it into his forearm.

_"Morsmordre," _he said calmly, and fainted.

The third-eldest Weasley woke in a sparsely-furnished, dark, shabby little house. Slowly, the room and the faces filling it came into focus; he saw a dusty gold chandelier, a faded pink armchair, the head of a cane; he saw Crabbe and Goyle, Umbridge, Bellatrix.

"Where am I?" he croaked.

"Hawkthorne," Bellatrix told him.

He arched an eyebrow. "This place warrants a name?"

"Careful, Weasley," warned Natalya, lying her wand at his throat.

"Sorry."

"You'll have to prove yourself, you know," Bellatrix snarled.

"Put me under the Cruciatus Curse," Percy puffed vehemently. "Will that prove my loyalty?"

Natalya smiled smoothly. "She may do that just because she enjoys it, flame-hair."

Percy let his eyes drink in the sight of Natalya's fine bones and muted coloring. "What about you?"

A wicked grin replaced her smooth smile. "There are things worse than torture."

"My protege," Bellatrix fondly remarked. "Natalya."

Percy made a mental note.

"You will be loyal to the Dark Lord, then?" Bellatrix still seemed skeptical.

"Teach me, and I will kill for him." Percy's mouth was set in a thin line.

Natalya's smile returned. "We think as one, flame."

It was no longer an insult. Percy returned the smile.

Lord Voldemort entered the room then, inspecting his new recruit. "A Weasley," he said wispily. "Do you know-- Dolohov here was the one who murdered your uncles, I believe."

"Good," Percy spat. "My whole family; nothing but blood traitors and trash."

"My, Dolores," Voldemort said, "you have brought me something this time."

Umbridge smiled proudly from her pouf in the corner.

Voldemort swooped down. "Do you know how to do Dark Magic, boy?"

"No," Percy said lamely.

"We shall teach you," came the response, and Umbridge came to Percy's side.

"Come," she said in her sugar-sweet voice, and led him into the other room.

Voldemort took Lucius aside. "I have been weakened lately," he said quietly.

"My Lord?" Lucius said.

"I fear," Voldemort said quietly, "that Potter has destroyed another fragment of my soul."

Lucius stood quietly.

"Kill him," seethed Voldemort. "Kidnap his friends. Torture them. Do what you must. But he has to be stopped."

"In that vein," Umbridge said, returning to the room, "I have found your son."

Lucius stared. "What?"

"He is at Hogwarts," said Umbridge. "Seemingly--" her voice piqued-- "quite friendly with Harry's friend Hermione Granger."

"The Mudblood?" Lucius was irate.

Voldemort bared his teeth. "It falls to you, Lucius."

Lucius' face tightened. "I'll bring our legions down on Hogwarts. And then I'll kill them all myself."


	24. Chapter 25

"I can definitely wait for my seventh year," Ginny said, eyeing the stack of parchment that sat in front of Harry.

"Want to help?" Harry asked.

"I said I _can_ wait," clarified Ginny. "Sixth year is hard enough as it is. You know how it goes."

"I just shouldn't have done N.E.W.T.'s this year," Harry mused. "Skip a year. Graduate with you."

Ginny smiled. "I can't pretend I wouldn't have enjoyed having you here."

An owl soared through the window and dropped a scrap of parchment on the table in front of Harry.

"The poison's ready," Harry told her. "Time to destroy the cup."

"I want to come with," Ginny said.

Harry ran upstairs to retrieve the goblet, and he and Ginny walked hand-in-hand down to Slughorn's office.

"Ready for this?" Slughorn said darkly.

"Are you?" Harry returned.

Slughorn took the cork out of a flask and handed it to Harry. "There you are," he said.

Taking a deep breath, Harry poured the deadly poison into Hufflepuff's cup and, in ringing tones, repeated the incantation.

Ginny jumped as the fire went out and watched intently as the cup shook and the potion exploded, with green glowing force, all over Slughorn's desk.

"Perfectly good pineapple ruined," lamented Slughorn, disposing of a poison-soaked bag.

"I'll get you some more, Professor," Harry promised, shaking his hand gratefully. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

"Don't mention it, m'boy," Slughorn acknowledged. He looked around himself. "Does this shaking ever stop?"

Harry frowned. "Usually when the light escapes, it stops." He set the cup down. "The fire's back--"

"It's not part of the potion," Ginny said from the window, sounding frightened.

"Oh, Merlin's beard," Slughorn gasped, pushing the curtain aside.

"What?" Harry said impatiently. "What is it?"

Ginny's eyes were wide. "Trolls."

"And goblins," Slughorn added, peering out the window.

"Veela," Ginny said, as Harry joined her at the window.

"Who's that leading them?" asked Slughorn.

Now Harry's face was set in a grim hatred. "Lucius Malfoy," he answered. In a split second, he knew what he had to do. "Notify McGonagall," he commanded Slughorn. "She'll call for the Aurors. Ginny, go get Ron and Hermione." He headed for the door.

"Wait!" Ginny called. "Where are you going?"

"To find Malfoy," Harry said. "He'll want to know his father's here."

Harry found Draco tossing snappers into the fire in the Great Hall. Hermione was sitting near him, studying furiously, aided by a bowl of oyster crackers.

"Hey, Malfoy," called Harry.

"Potter," came the reply.

"Your dad's here," he told him nonchalantly.

Draco dropped the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes bag to the floor. "What?"

"Yeah," Harry continued. "He's got a great army of trolls, goblins, werewolves, and veela with him."

He swore, using some incredibly colorful metaphors and a few words Hermione hadn't even heard before. After his outburst, he swiveled around to look at Harry, grey eyes glittering furiously. "So what have we got for a counter-attack?"

"Nothing here," Harry replied.

"We have Eva Wingfield," Hermione said confidently.

Just then, Ron and Ginny burst into the room, along with Neville, Luna, and Padma. "We have Dumbledore's Army," Ron said stoutly.

"He's talking to Filch!" said Neville abruptly, standing at the window.

"C'mon," Harry said, and they raced to the doors.

Professor McGonagall was there to meet them. "Mr. Filch is speaking with your father, Draco. There's no need to get anxious quite yet."

"But Professor," Harry interrupted, "he has a whole army of creatures out there--"

"Yes, Mr. Potter, I am quite aware of that," she said crisply. "Aurors are on their way right now."

The doors opened, and Filch slipped in.

"He says he's not leaving until he's killed Harry Potter and his son," Filch reported.

McGonagall's lips flattened into a line. "He can throw whatever he wants at the walls of this castle," she said firmly, "but he is not getting in, and he is not killing anyone."

"What are you going to throw at _him?" _Draco demanded. "A small task force of Aurors is not going to overcome that lot out there."

Just then, a long, low noise sounded from outside.

Neville jumped. "What's that?"

Luna went to the window. "Look," she said serenely, and Ginny arrived at the window in time to see a host of goblins come running over the hill.

"It's Bill," she said breathlessly, "with the goblins!"

Grawp followed the goblins, beside Madame Maxime, who was astride a magnificent black Belgian horse. Several other giants lumbered up after them. With them came a host of Aurors.

Alastor Moody clumped into the room. "Not bad, eh, Minerva?"

A head peeked into the room; Harry caught a glimpse of the long, waving ears out of the corner of his eye. "Dobby?"

Shyly, he came out from around the corner, dressed in a tea cozy, a towel, and socks. "We say," he began, his eyes glittering, "that we wants to help Harry Potter."

"Who's 'we?'"

Slowly, a crowd of house-elves emerged, all dressed in Hermione's hand-knit elf clothes.

Hermione let out a gasp. "My clothes!"

Ron let out a short laugh. "We're not so defenseless after all."

No sooner had the words escaped his mouth than the window crashed in and a troll seized Hermione. Lucius crawled in after him.

"Don't crush her just yet," he drawled, "we may need her as a bargaining chip."

"Hello, Father," Draco said, his voice full of hatred.

Lucius peered up at Hermione, who was wriggling in the fist of the troll. "You mean you're not going to beg that I put her down? Your Mudblood girlfriend?"

"If you so much as break her nail," Draco said levelly, "I will kill you."

"Oh, but you're not a killer, Draco," said Lucius, his words an eerie echo of Dumbledore's.

"Try me." He drew his wand.

"Don't, Draco, it's not worth it, leave it--"

Draco opened his mouth, but Lucius was faster. _"Stupefy!"_

Harry jumped to his defense. _"Expelliarmus!" _He swiveled around to Draco_. "Ennervate!"_

Ron helped Draco to his feet.

The troll was sniffing Hermione, thinking she would make a very tasty morsel. She shrieked. "Harry! Draco! Do something!"

"No!" commanded Lucius, pointing imperiously at the troll. "You are not to hurt her-- unless I say so."

The troll gave a pained sort of grunt and shifted its weight. The floor shook.

"Now," Lucius said, turning on his only son, "you're going to be coming along with me."

"No," said Draco flatly. He steeled himself, knowing what was coming--

_"Crucio!" _seethed Lucius, his eyes blazing, and Draco hit the ground screaming. Hermione called Lucius a name she didn't even know existed in her vocabulary.

Ron glanced at Harry, who looked thunderstruck. "She must have picked it up from Malfoy," he said.

_"Finite incantatem," _said Harry smoothly, and turned to Lucius. _"Expelliarmus!"_

Neville snatched up Lucius' wand.

Lucius stared down his son. "You won't do anything," he sneered. "You're too frightened of me."

Draco glared at him with equal hate. "You're right, Father," he said slowly, handing his wand to Harry. "There is no magic I can perform that will stop you."

For a moment, Lucius felt victorious. And then Draco curled his fist into a tight little ball and delivered a vicious right cross to his father's face.

Draco turned his attention to the troll. "Put her down!" he demanded sternly.

The troll was confused. He looked from Draco to Hermione.

"Put her down!"

Dobby's eyes glowed. "Friends of Harry Potter will not be harmed," he said astutely, and held a hand out toward the troll. He crashed through the castle wall, knocking several goblins out in the process, and Hermione leapt from his fist, rolling across the ground.

"Hermione!" Draco ran to her, cursing several goblins along the way.

"Come on!" Dobby led a charge of house-elves into the fray.

Ron watched in amazement.

"Look," Hermione breathed, as Draco held her. "I knew it."

He grinned, watching his father's army get demolished by Hermione's legion of strangely-clad house-elves, overpowering

everyone from the trolls to the veela.


	25. Chapter 26

Harry sat quietly in front of the Pensieve, trying to sort out his own thoughts. The minute he destroyed Hufflepuff's goblet, his brain was flooded with Voldemort's thoughts. He felt pain, an aching disgust in his stomach, and utter, repulsive hatred.

"Anyone's thoughts but my own," he whispered, and plunged his head in the Pensieve. He was met with a familiar sight, one that had haunted his dreams and visions for his entire life.

Harry Potter was standing in his parents' house.

Lily was holding baby Harry in her arms, smiling down at him. "So beautiful," she murmured. "Isn't he?"

"He's a doll," said the voice of Petunia Dursley, who held a chubby baby in her own arms.

Lily smiled at Petunia's son. "I do hope he and Dudley grow up to be friends."

"I'm sure they will," Petunia said.

James entered the room then, holding mugs of hot cocoa for his wife and his sister-in-law. "Why don't you put the children in the crib," he suggested, "and we can show Petunia the photo album?"

Petunia beamed. "Oh, yes-- I can't wait. You say the photos move?"

"Yes," Lily said. "Come on, the room's upstairs." She led Petunia upstairs.

"Do you think they'll be alright in one crib?" Petunia said worriedly, setting Dudley down. "Dudders is rather territorial."

"They'll be fine," said Lily. "Let's go."

But James ran into the room. "Lily," he said breathlessly, "Lily, _he's here."_

She stopped in her tracks. "How-- but he couldn't have found us--"

"We must have been betrayed," James said. "Hide-- I'll try and hold him off."

"James--"

He cut her off with a kiss. "I'll be fine." He ran out the door.

"Lily?" Petunia gathered Dudley up in her arms. "Lily, what does he mean? Who's here?"

"We do not speak his name," Lily said quickly. "You must hide."

"Lily, what--"

"Here," she said, whipping out her wand.

"Are you going to--" Her voice wavered.

"Quiet!" She looked around wildly. _"Prosavelieris," _she whispered, drawing a circle of light around Petunia and her son.

"What?" She was absolutely puzzled.

"You're invisible to him," Lily said, "so long as you're holding Dudley. It's familial magic, something we've been working on in the Department of Mysteries--" She broke off at hearing a crash downstairs. "Go in the closet," she said urgently. "It'll be safer in there."

"Lily, what's happening?"

"I'll explain later." She shut her sister in the closet.

Petunia peered out from between the slats in the door, and Harry's view of the room became narrowed.

Voldemort burst into the room, and there was an audible gasp from Petunia. He strode up to the crib.

"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"

"Stand aside, you silly girl; stand aside now!"

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead--"

Voldemort advanced on her.

"Not Harry! Please... have mercy... have mercy..."

He raised his wand. _"Avada Kedavra!"_

And at once, he was back in the silent stone room, in a cold sweat. _Petunia must have passed out,_ he thought weakly. _I think I'm going to pass out._

"What happened?" Harry asked.

Hermione sat at his bedside. He was in the hospital wing. "Draco and I found you."

He sat up a little straighter, gaining his bearings. "You and Malfoy?"

"Yeah. I wanted to see exactly what qualified Hermione to be Head Girl, and--"

She blushed furiously. "Draco, shut _up_."

"What memory did you see?" Ron asked. "It had to be something awful..."

Harry swallowed hard. "I saw m-my mum," he stammered, "getting murdered."

"Oh, Harry." Ginny moved to embrace him.

"I just wanted to see some-- some other memory, other than what's been in my brain lately, and that's what I get."

"What do you mean? What's been on your mind?"

"Voldemort's feelings," Harry said. "Our connection. It's back. And it's-- it's getting stronger, with each Horcrux I destroy."

"You've only got two left," Hermione said quietly.

"I know," Harry said. "I can feel everything he feels. I just-- I hope he's not using this connection to his advantage, like he did when he lured me to the Department of Mysteries, with Sirius--" He broke off.

"You could use it to yours," mused Hermione.

"What?"

"He can't stand love," Hermione told him. "In the Department of Mysteries. You told me that he was disgusted by it, that he couldn't possess you when you were thinking of Sirius--"

"I can't control it, Hermione," Harry said. "I never learned Occlumency, let alone Legilimency, I can't put my thoughts in his brain--"

"I could teach you," Draco said suddenly.

Everyone turned to look at him.

"I'm good at Legilimency," Draco told him, "and excellent at Occlumency. I could teach you."

Harry considered this. "When can we start?"


	26. Chapter 27

"Alright," Harry said. "Where do we begin?" He was sitting across from Draco in the same unused classroom that the Pensieve sat in.

"Try to block me," Draco said, and drew his wand. _"Legilimens!"_

Harry braced himself. Memories flooded his brain-- he was going to the first day of Muggle school in baggy old clothes of Dudley's and taped glasses; he was finding Ginny in the Chamber of Secrets; he was laughing with Ron and the rest of his mates in Gryffindor Tower.

"Owww," Harry said.

"Sorry," Draco replied. "You tried to Stupefy me."

"Did I?"

"Yeah." He shook it off. "Let's try again."

Draco gave a snort of laughter. "Those clothes were hideous."

"It's what my aunt and uncle dressed me in. They didn't think I was good enough for my own new clothes."

He cleared his throat. "Alright. _Legilimens!"_

Harry was riding a thestral across the sky; he was sitting across from Hermione, watching her study, wondering what it would be like to kiss her--

"Hey!" yelled Harry. Draco was laughing uncontrollably. "Potter," he said, "I don't believe it. I really don't believe it."

Harry blushed. "I was a little confused," he confessed. "After Cho--"

"She was pretty," Draco admitted. "So is Ginny. But neither one of them can match up to Hermione." He made a face. "She was terrible to play Quidditch against, though. Ruthless."

"I know what you mean," Harry said.

Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Malfoy," he said, exasperated.

"Come on. Again. _Legilimens!"_

Harry was sneaking out of the school through the secret passage; he was standing at the punch bowl at the Yule Ball with Parvati Patil; he was with Ginny, in the Gryffindor commonroom, sharing his first kiss with her. And then he was Draco, and he was showing off his new racing broom to Crabbe and Goyle; he was grinning as Umbridge made him a member of the Inquisitorial Squad; he had Hermione's hand and was leading her through the corridors, as she giggled furiously.

"Hey!" Draco said.

Harry laughed. "Oh, bloody hell. When was that memory?"

"Recently..."

They fell apart in laughter. "You know," Harry said, "you're not half bad for a Slytherin git."

"Thank you," Draco said earnestly. "I'm very handsome, too, or so they tell me."

Harry pelted him with a crumpled-up piece of parchment.

"Do you want to try Legilimency now?" Draco asked.

"Sure."

"It's actually quite simple." He proceeded to launch into a fifteen-minute explanation.

"Simple?"

"Well..."

Harry grinned.

"Just try it."

"Alright." He raised his wand. _"Legilimens!"_

A misty memory crept into his mind; Draco was about eight, sitting in his father's study.

"What have I told you," Lucius was saying, "about going out into the ornamental garden?"

"I'm sorry," Draco said quietly, his hands folded in his lap. "I got lost. I thought it was the way back to--"

"It doesn't matter why you were there," Lucius said acidly. "It only matters that you were there."

"Yes, Father."

"Stand up. It's time for your punishment."

Draco stood.

Lucius drew his wand. _"Crucio!"_

Draco fell to the ground, writhing and screaming. Lucius lifted his eyes to the great grandfather clock.

Narcissa entered the room. "Lucius! What--"

"Quiet, woman," he commanded, and Narcissa fell silent. Seconds ticked by, and Harry thought he could endure the memory no longer, but the minute hand finally moved, and Lucius gave Draco his reprieve.

Narcissa knelt at once and brought her son into her arms. He was crying wildly.

"Lucius, certainly you didn't need to--"

"It is the only way he will learn to respect power," Lucius said sharply, and strode out of the room.

When the memory disappeared and Harry was left staring back at the seventeen-year-old Draco, he felt sorry for him.

"I hate your father, Malfoy," Harry said.

"Yeah, I hate him too." Draco was looking at the floor.

"I'm sorry."

Draco shrugged, still avoiding Harry's gaze. "It's not your fault."

"I won't tell anyone," he promised.

He looked up. "I know."

"You have to mean them!" Bellatrix snarled, gripping Percy's wand arm by the wrist. "Every ounce of hate... you must summon it! You must thirst for pain!"

Percy squared himself against Natalya, who flashed her pale grin. _"Crucio!"_

Natalya flinched, but was able to resist the curse.

"Mean it, Weasley!"

Percy was annoyed, and he wished that Bellatrix would have been his opponent; then, he thought, this would be no problem at all.

"Focus!"

He did. Every ounce of pain he wanted to cause Bellatrix, he channeled into cursing Natalya. _"Crucio!"_

Her knees buckled and she cried out.

_"Finite incantatem," _Percy said at once.

"Good," Bellatrix said. "For now. We'll continue this in a moment." She stepped out of the room, where Lucius was waiting for her.

"Weasley." When she spoke, it was in a thick Russian accent. "You are a worthy adversary."

"We're on the same side," Percy replied, "or so they tell me."

She smiled. "I would like that."

Percy stared down at her. Briefly, he wondered where Penelope Clearwater was, and what she would think of this encounter. And then all thoughts vanished.

Voldemort sat, alone, in the dark basement of Hawkthorne, his long fingers holding up his bald head. He thought Harry had

been laughing. But now he was sad, and a bit angry. What had happened?

_"Legilimens," _he muttered softly, and his mind flickered; but nothing came. The only image was blank, black, empty.

He rose and went outside, where Pettigrew was being kept in a tiny cage, in rat form.

"Peter, Peter, Peter," he sighed, hooking a finger on the handle and lifting it up so that the rat was at eye level with him. "Have you ever had the feeling that you just needed to kill?"

The rat scurried in circles, and tried hiding itself in the corner of the cage.

"There is no escape," Voldemort said, "or can't you see?"

Squeaking, the rat buried its head in its hands.

Voldemort reached his long fingers through the bars of the cage, taking the rat's neck between his thumb and finger. "Sometimes," he said thoughtfully, "when people who ought to die cheat death, others have to be sacrificed in their place." He drew the rat out of the cage. It squirmed and wrestled, but could not escape Voldemort's grasp.

"Sometimes I just get restless," Voldemort concluded, and snapped Pettigrew's neck, purposely trodding on his dead rat form as he went back into the house.


	27. Chapter 28

"Ron," Padma cried, running into his dormitory, "oh, Ron-- wake up, please--" She held a crumpled tissue in her hand and her face was red and puffy.

Ron stirred from sleep. "Padma? How did--"

"Oh, Ron," she sniffled, and flung her arms around him. "I was w-walking with Ginny this morning when your m-mother came... and she saw Ginny and burst into tears... and... oh, Ron, your father, he's--"

"What about my father?" Fear lit Ron's eyes.

"He's dead!" wailed Padma. "M-murdered by the sound of it-- at the Ministry--"

Ron's face, thought Harry, was hard to read. He was in shock, that much was obvious. "It can't be," whispered Ron, "I just-- he owled me just a day ago--"

"I'm s-so sorry," Padma said.

"I need to go see my mum," Ron said, sliding out of bed.

"She's in McGonagall's office," Padma told him. "They told me to come get you. And Ginny wanted you, Harry."

Ron automatically began to move toward the door.

"You're still in your pajamas," Harry gently reminded him, but Ron just shrugged. The pressure of Padma's hand on his palm kept him moving as he made his way down to McGonagall's office, followed closely by Harry, who had thrown his robes on over his T-shirt and flannel pants.

Harry was nearly knocked over by Ginny, who had tears flooding down her face. "Harry," she whispered, "Harry..."

"I know, Gin." He wrapped her in a tight hug. "We'll get through it."

Mrs. Weasley set eyes on her son and began sobbing all over again. She gathered him and Ginny into her arms. "My babies..."

"What happened?" Harry said to Professor McGonagall, as the Weasleys shared their grief.

"You'll never believe it," she said quietly. "I didn't believe it."

"Who was it, Professor?"

She put a hand over her heart. "Dolores Umbridge."

Natalya crept into Percy's room at dawn's first light and sat on the edge of his bed. "Wake up," she whispered, and poked him.

He swatted at her finger, and apologized immediately. "Sorry," he said. "I was having a dream."

"One's about to come true," Natalya said with a smug smile.

"Natalya..." He didn't know how to say it.

"Your father's dead," she said joyfully.

Percy was stunned. That wasn't what he had been expecting at all.

"The first one of the blood traitors," she said, ticking off Percy's family members on her fingers. "Next, I suppose, your mum--"

Her voice faded as Percy stared down at the Dark Mark on his wrist.

"I cannot believe," said Ron to Harry, "that git Percy doesn't even show up now... poor Mum..."

Harry looked over at Mrs. Weasley, who was sandwiched between Charlie and Bill, weeping into a handkerchief. He let Ginny rest her head against his shoulder, and gently ran his fingers through her hair, trying his best to calm her hiccuping sobs.

"Mum," said a voice from behind Harry, and everyone turned to see a humbled Percy. "Mum, I'm so sorry."

Mrs. Weasley jumped up and wrapped Percy in a hug. "Oh, Perce. It's okay."

Percy shook his head. "No, it isn't."

"What do you mean?" She looked concerned.

With a sigh, Percy pushed his sleeve up, revealing the Dark Mark.

"Percy!"

"It was a mistake, mum," Percy hastily said, "but it was Umbridge who killed Dad, she was upset about not getting the job-- and I resigned in protest, oh, I-- she tricked me."

Mrs. Weasley nodded. "We've all been taken in at one time or another," she said kindly. "The most important thing is that you're here with us." She took a deep breath, straightened her robes, and headed to the front, where she was to give the eulogy.

"Family and friends." She cleared her throat. "We're here today to pay our last respects to a wonderful man-- a husband, a father-- so many things." A pause. "Arthur was so many things to so many people. He was a dedicated Ministry official, loyal to his co-workers--" Perkins, sitting near the back row, smiled-- "a wonderful father to our children, even if he did spoil them a bit; and he was my best f-friend." Her voice wavered and she had to pause to dab at her eyes with a handkerchief.

"My husband's dearest ambition," she said with a rueful smile, "was to find out how Muggle airplanes stay in the air. He never managed it. But he did manage to enchant a Ford Anglia once." She smiled fondly. "He had a deep love for Muggle things," she went on, "which extended to the rights that he knew Muggle-borns deserved, which led to his promotion." She took a shaky breath. "And his promotion led to his murder by a spiteful Ministry witch-- Dolores Umbridge-- whom we now know is working for You-Know-Who." She paused. "Family was so important to Arthur--" she was crying now-- "and he would be so glad to know that we are all together, remaining strong. We all loved Arthur so much-- we all watched over him in our own ways, and now he is watching over all of us." Barely able to squeak out the last syllable, Mrs. Weasley offered a shaky smile and returned to her seat, pausing briefly to run her fingers over the side of the casket where her husband lay.

After the funeral, they returned to the Burrow, where Hermione, Fleur and Padma, along with Charlie, George, and Fred's girlfriends-- Mona, Nickie, and Karyn-- made dinner for everyone.

"What I wouldn't give," Mrs. Weasley was saying, "to get my hands on Dolores Umbridge..." She sighed. "I've never been one for vengeance, but this time--"

"And Voldemort," Ron spat. Harry looked up in surprise at this use of the name.

"Well," Harry said slowly, "we have to get our hands on Voldemort."

Ron nodded. "There's only one left."

Mrs. Weasley stared at Harry. "What do you mean? You've destroyed them all?"

"All but one," Harry said, "which is his snake. And--" he paused. "The link has been restored," he said. "I can see into his mind again. I know he guards Nagini jealously. She's always by him. And he's getting angrier. He knows that parts of his soul are vanishing."

"Lure her away," Mrs. Weasley suggested.

"I can't," Harry said. "The rest of the murders Voldemort has committed have been with his wand."

She was confused; Harry explained about the destruction process, and a look of understanding crossed her face. "Ohh," she said softly.

"Can you see where he is?" asked Bill suddenly.

Harry nodded. "I can see the house," he said, "but I don't know where it is."

"He's hiding in France," Percy spoke up. "That's why it took me so long to get here this morning. When Natalya told me what had happened to Dad, I left immediately-- but I had to get across the border before I could Apparate, and of course I Apparated straight to the Burrow but no one was here--" Tears filled his eyes.

Mrs. Weasley gave him a hug.

"Percy," Harry said seriously, "do you think you could bring me there?"

"I don't know France that well," Percy admitted.

Fleur appeared in the doorway. "I do."


	28. Chapter 29

"Come," Fleur whispered, leading the trio, Ginny, and Percy through the dark streets of the village of Beuvron-en-Auge. The moon, a crescent of silver, hung high in the midnight sky.

"Zis is ze place," Fleur said. She looked to Percy. "Where do we go from 'ere?"

Percy scouted the buildings. "This way," he said, and scurried off down an alleyway.

They passed tiny cottages, which soon gave way to larger, grand houses. Percy stopped in front of a particularly forboding Gothic-era house.

"This is it," he said definitively.

"Bloody hell," Ron said, staring up at the facade.

"Now who's in there?" Harry wanted to know.

"Loads of Death Eaters," affirmed Percy.

"And Voldemort, of course," Hermione said.

Percy looked as though she had just brought the whole house down upon them. "Don't say his name so close--"

But it was too late. Voldemort, in robes of black fog, his outline blurred against the night, appeared in the great arched doorway, flanked by Bellatrix and Umbridge.

"We have visitors," he said wispily, his pointed teeth showing as he grinned wickedly.

Ron raised his wand, glaring steadily at Umbridge. _"Avada Kedavra!" _A weak puff of green steam came from the tip of his wand; Umbridge laughed, her high and cruel voice echoing in the night.

"Ron, you can't--" said Percy from behind him. He thought of the training Natalya and Bellatrix had given him. "But I can." He pointed his wand straight at Umbridge, who was still laughing. _"Crucio!"_

Abruptly, the laughter stopped, replaced by horrified screaming. Umbridge curled in terror on the front steps of the house as Percy advanced on her. "I was taught," he said darkly, "to want to cause pain."

Umbridge looked up at him, her eyes wide with fright.

"Percy!" screamed Hermione. "Percy, no!"

He ignored her. "I bet you didn't give my father a chance, did you?"

She said nothing, only continued to twitch and shriek.

"Percy!" Hermione ran forward.

_"Finite incantatem," _Percy said finally, and Umbridge relaxed. He turned to walk away.

"That's right," Umbridge said distastefully. "You still are capable of mercy."

Eyes blazing, Percy turned on her. _"Avada Kedavra!"_

And Dolores Umbridge lay dead, a look of horrified shock on her amphibious face.

Voldemort watched this as if it was a mildly entertaining play unfolding before his eyes, while Ginny watched with a guarded jealousy. She wished she had killed Umbridge. She wanted vengeance. And there was only one person left standing on the stairs who had hurt her directly.

Perhaps it was just because Voldemort would never expect it from a young witch; perhaps he remembered Ginny from when he had possessed her as Tom Riddle; or perhaps he was just so occupied with predicting Harry's response that he forgot that other people were standing there, posing just as much of a threat. But when Ginny Weasley Apparated into a spot two feet from the Dark Lord and jabbed her wand into his ribs, he didn't have time enough to react before she had shouted _"Expelliarmus!"_

"Stupid girl," scoffed Bellatrix, but before she could do anything, Hermione had stopped her in her tracks.

_"Petrificus totalus!"_

Harry grabbed Voldemort's wand at once.

"I don't need my wand to perform magic," Voldemort said calmly, flexing his fingers.

_Hold on, Ginny,_ thought Harry, as his eyes flitted over the ground, searching for Nagini.

"I'm not afraid of you," Ginny said defiantly.

Voldemort seemed offended.

"You possessed me for nearly a whole year," she continued, "and you couldn't win. Harry killed you then, and he was only twelve. Imagine what he'll do to you now."

Ron shook from head to toe. "Ginny..." he said weakly.

"I will kill you slowly," Voldemort told her, his red eyes boring into her. "I will torture you, while they watch."

Nagini slithered through the long, scraggly grass. Harry and Ginny noticed her at the same time, and Harry raised Voldemort's wand.

"Too late," Ginny said, an eyebrow raised.

"Avada Kedavra!" cried Harry, and a green jet of light soared from the tip of the wand.

The ground shook, and light exploded from the dead snake's mouth, fading into nothing.

Voldemort glared at him.

"You're mortal now," Harry said stoutly.

"You didn't need to kill the snake."

"I killed it out of spite."

"Then go ahead." Voldemort stuck his chin out, daring Harry to kill him. "You can't do it. Your rage against me is still warranted. You cannot use the Killing Curse."

Harry knew this. "Percy," he said quickly.

Percy smiled. "My pleasure." He raised his wand. _"Avada Kedavra!"_

But the curse bounced off. Percy ducked, and it hit a bird, who fell to the ground in a shower of feathers.

Harry's mouth fell open. "But I've destroyed them all," he said in disbelief. "You made six... we've destroyed all six..."

"No," Voldemort said, pushing Ginny to the side, "I made seven."

"But--"

"I only intended to make six," Voldemort told him, "you're right. I intended to make my sixth with your death, Harry. But something else went wrong the night Lily sacrificed herself for you."

"And what would that be?" His heart beat wildly in his chest.

"The Horcrux spell backfired," Voldemort explained, "and the part of my soul that fragmented when I killed your mother... went into you."

Harry went white.

"Yes, Harry, with every breath you take, you keep me alive," Voldemort said hungrily, "with every day you feel the sun on your face, you keep me immortal. You are nothing but a container for my soul, Harry."

There was no response, no curse, no defense. Harry had nothing to say. He opened his mouth, and looked at Ginny, who was terrified.

And then he Apparated away.


	29. Chapter 30

"I thought you'd come back here," Ginny said, walking up to the front door of Hogwarts, where Harry stood, thinking.

Harry said nothing.

"C'mon. Everyone's waiting."

Harry allowed her to lead him into the castle and to the Pensieve room. Everyone was there-- Ron, Padma, Hermione, Draco, Neville, Luna.

Harry wanted to thank them all for being there for him. "I'm surprised you even want to share a room with me," is what came out.

"Bloody well right we do," Ron said stoutly.

"You've been fighting the Dark Lord off for seventeen years," said Draco. "And he's been _living inside you_. None of us could have done that."

Harry stared at the floor. "I'm going to have to sacrifice myself," he said matter-of-factly. "I'll do it. But I'll have to teach one of you the spell to undo a Horcrux."

"No!" Ginny shrieked. She ran to him, ignoring everyone else, falling on her knees in front of him. She took his hands. "You can't," she said. "You can't." Tears ran down her face and splashed onto the floor.

Hermione remained calm. "All you need is the wand, Harry. You heard what Voldemort said-- you didn't have to kill Nagini. All you have to do is remove the Horcrux from yourself."

"I dropped Voldemort's wand," Harry said numbly. "And now he has destroyed it."

This she hadn't expected. "What? How do you know?"

"I saw it," Harry told her. "I had a vision of it--"

"It could have been nothing," Hermione said.

"Don't you get it?" yelled Harry. "I can see into his mind!"

"You thought Sirius was being held captive in the Department of Mysteries," Hermione gently reminded him.

"It's not the same," Harry spat back. "I can tell. Malfoy's been helping me, I can block him now and I can pry into _his_ mind--"

"It's true," Draco affirmed. "He's been getting much better."

"--and he's getting weaker," Harry finished. "His powers are getting weaker. He can't plant things in my mind like he used to be able to. I know what's going on, and after we left, he retrieved that wand and burned it into ashes, then scattered them in the ocean. I can't use that wand to take his soul out of me, Hermione. I have to die. There's no other way."

"What about the prophecy?" she said. "Neither can live while the other survives. One will die at the hand of the other. What about that? One of you has to live!"

"Prophecies can be wrong," Harry told her.

"Harry, you _can't!_ I won't let you... I can't lose you..." Ginny shook violently.

"There is no other way." His voice was even now, matter-of-fact. He took her hands in his. "I'm sorry." He sighed, wrapping her in a tight embrace. "I love you, Gin."

Tears were streaming down her cheeks in little rivers. "Harry... you can't, you won't, please... I can't be without you... don't _do _this, there has to be another way..."

"There's not."

Hermione got to her feet. "Promise me you won't do anything yet," she said.

"Why?"

"I'm going to the Restricted Section," she said. "I'm going to look through the books and see if I can't find something."

He sighed. "Oh, Hermione, there isn't going to be any--"

"Shut up," she snapped. "You're going to let me look."

Draco rose. "I'll help you," he said.

"Me too," Ron agreed, and Neville nodded.

"I'll write to my dad," Luna said calmly. "He might know something that can help."

"Thanks, Luna," said Harry earnestly. "All you guys. Really, thanks."

"D'you think we could use Polyjuice Potion?" Neville asked.

Hermione was confused.

"You know, get someone to pretend they're Harry..." He trailed off.

"Polyjuice only works to change outward appearance," Hermione said. "Besides, you'd have to kill whoever it was that took the Polyjuice even if it did work. We don't want to murder anyone else."

"Unless we could force Bellatrix to take it," Neville said evenly.

"Good point," Ron said.

"The Room of Requirement?" Draco mused. "No, that's no good. It said in _Hogwarts, A History _that--"

Ron cut him off. "You've read _Hogwarts, A History?_"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Well now it all makes sense," he said, and actually cracked a smile.

"I think," Hermione said after awhile, snapping a book shut, "that I'm going to write to Viktor." She braced herself for Ron's smart remark, but he was poring over a book with Padma.

"Viktor Krum?" Draco said stonily. "That Bulgarian lout that you--"

Hermione laughed and gave him a kiss. "Boys," she said to herself, shaking her head. "Yes. The Bulgarian lout that I dated in fourth year."

"I never liked him much," Draco lied, although Hermione knew very well that he had been just as eager to have him at Hogwarts as Ron. "I was cheering for Fleur." He gave a little mock growl, and Hermione flicked him on the arm, laughing.

"What are you going to ask him?" Draco asked.

"He studied at Durmstrang," Hermione said. "Maybe he'll have something to say on the subject."

"Hello," Viktor said, smiling down at Hermione. He had instantly Apparated to Hogsmeade from Liverpool, where he had been attending a Quidditch match. "It is good to see you." He looked around. "It has been long time. I do not recognize everyone--"

Draco put a protective arm around her. "I'm Draco Malfoy," he said. "Her boyfriend."

Hermione gave him a surprised glance, but didn't deny it.

"We all grew up," Ron said, stepping up to Viktor. He was a few inches taller than Viktor now. "We're not children anymore."

"Viktor--" She wrested free of Draco's grasp and aprroached him. "Look, we need your help. Is there a way--" She broke off, turning to the people behind her. "We're dealing with Horcruxes."

He sat down hard. "You are sure?"

"Yes, Viktor, quite sure."

"Vot evidence is there..."

"The counter-curse," Harry said. "I've performed it four times."

He put his chin in his hands. "There is von possibility."

"What?"

"The Dementors," Viktor said. "They are soul-suckers."

"That's stupid," spat Ginny. "How do you know which soul they'll suck out?"

"You could use Occlumency! Or Legilimency!" said Draco. "Couldn't you?"

"In theory," Hermione said.

"But I've never been good at it," Harry interjected.

Draco turned to him. "You're getting better," he said. "Really. I think we could teach you enough--"

"You're all forgetting one very important thing," said Luna calmly. "The Dementors. They're gone, aren't they?"

"They went through the veil," Hermione said softly.

"So you'll have to follow," said Luna. She blinked.

Harry thought hard about this. "So Malfoy, what do you think would be the best way to go about this?"

"Well," Draco mused, "If you used Legilimency, you could call up Voldemort's memories and squash everything down that was your own. That might draw the Dementors to his soul and leave yours."

"So you're going to go through the veil of death, endure a Dementor's Kiss, hope it doesn't take your soul, and then come out to kill Voldemort?" Ginny said.

Harry looked at her. "Well, it's not like I'll be coming out to face him right away..."

She let out an abrupt laugh. "I don't like it."

"But this way I have a little bit of a chance."

"How are we going to get into the Department of Mysteries?" Hermione said.


	30. Chapter 31

"Come on," Percy said, in his Head Boy voice. "Keep up, keep up."

"Y'know, you could get fired for this," Ron said admirably.

Percy turned to glare at his younger brother. "I don't work here anymore anyway."

The Atrium was empty, and they all tiptoed through it, cramming into the lift. Hermione pressed the button for the ninth floor.

"Have you got a plan for getting out of the veil, Harry?" Ginny said suddenly.

"After a fashion, yes."

Harry looked curiously at Hermione as a cool voice announced "Department of Mysteries."

They sprinted down the long, torch-lit corridor, past the ghosts of blue flame that haunted the walls of black marble and gazed at the doors.

"Which one is it, Harry?"

"That one," he said, not knowing if he was right at all, and threw it open.

And so it was-- they went into the huge room, climbing down the benches. Harry stared up at the veil, remembering how it had taken Sirius, how he had never returned--

"Ginny," he whispered. "I have something for you." From the folds of his robes he pulled the two-way mirror Sirius had given to him so long ago, and pressed it into her hand.

"You don't have the other one," Ginny reminded him.

"Sirius has it," Harry said quietly.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Hermione said. "But I can't hold to a mirror." She drew her wand. _"Incarcerous!"_

Harry jumped, but Hermione instantly unwound the rope, fastening a loop around his middle, and knotting it tightly. "Be safe, Harry," she said softly. She gave him a hug.

Ron clapped him on the back. "In case you-- you know--" He cleared his throat. "Thanks, mate. For everything."

Harry gave him a hug, and turned to Ginny.

"I don't need to say anything," she whispered, "but I will." She wrapped her arms around him. "I love you," she said in his ear. "Come back to me?"

He looked her in the eye. "I promise, Ginny." He turned to step into the veil, but was blocked by Draco.

"I uh, just wanted to say thanks."

"What?"

"I was a solid git to you for six years and then you come along and make friends with me," he said with a chuckle. "You let me into your family. And, uh... I just... I appreciate it, y'know?"

Harry clapped him on the shoulder. "You're not so bad." He nodded at Hermione. "Take care of her?"

Draco grinned. "Absolutely."

Hermione's knuckles were white as she gripped the long rope that held Harry. "Good luck," she said tearfully.

Harry nodded. Taking a deep breath, he pushed aside the cold, silky fabric, and stepped across the threshold.

The minute he was behind the veil, gravity seemed to disappear; or at least partly. He could still walk, peering through the dusty green fog, but his feet barely touched the ground. And what was the ground? Tangled roots, a carpet of them, twisted together, rough and earthy beneath his feet.

"Sirius!" he yelled, and the echo went on for miles. "Sirius!" He waited several seconds. _It wouldn't be too bad,_ Harry thought, _if I could at least see my hand in front of my face..._

He walked a little further, toward what seemed like a patch of light, putting his hand out in front of him. Leaves, blue and pink in color, swirled on puffs of silver dust, and the ground lashed out roots to capture them, bringing them down below the earth. More leaves fell the closer he came to the light--

Harry's hand hit something hard. It was smooth and cold, and Harry realized it was the trunk of a large tree. _But who's ever heard of a tree made of stone?_ Harry thought abruptly, then quickly withdrew his hand in disgust, making the realization--

"It's bone," said the voice of Sirius.

"Sirius!" Harry's face lit up, and he ran to his godfather. "Sirius, I can't tell you how much I've missed you, I--"

"How long has it been?" asked Sirius, his forehead wrinkled.

Harry was confused. "You don't know?"

"Time loses meaning," Sirius responded. "There's nothing here to measure time with. I'm not even sure what time is in this place."

"What is this place, Sirius?"

"Death," Sirius said matter-of-factly. "It's the land between doors. You can choose-- here, whether you want to remain on Earth as a ghost, or whether you want to pass beyond." He sighed. "I'm glad I stayed around for a little while, at least. I didn't want to be a ghost. I'm not scared to die." He smiled fondly at Harry. "I did want to see you again, though."

Harry returned the smile. "It's been two years," he told him.

"Two years," Sirius mused. "If I'd have had a bet on with someone, I'd have lost it. It's felt like an eternity." Suddenly, as though this thought had just occurred, he looked down at Harry. "How did you come to be here?"

"I walked in."

"Very foolish, Harry. Very brave, but foolish. Why, may I ask?"

"They've sent the Dementors behind the veil," Harry said, "and I need one of them."

"Why?"

"A piece of Voldemort's soul is living inside me," Harry said gravely, "and having a Dementor perform the Kiss is the only chance we've got."

"To suck out the soul," Sirius said, as if it were obvious.

"Yes."

"If you call, they will come," Sirius told him sadly, "but I hope you know what you're doing. Here, all we are is our souls."

"Dementor!" Harry called, feeling silly.

And sure enough, a black-robed figure appeared.

Harry shut his eyes_. "Legilimens!" _he cried, thinking with all his might of Voldemort, concentrating on everything he knew about him, just like Draco had taught him.

And suddenly he saw himself, a young Tom Riddle, performing wandless magic-- the Cruciatus Curse-- on two of his housemates from the orphanage, in a cave--

He was Voldemort, returned to life, yelling at Avery, telling him how useless and unworthy he was, how he could kill him at the slightest whim--

He was Voldemort, standing in front of Bellatrix Lestrange, his fingers in her hair, pulling with all his might as she screamed--

He was Tom Riddle, receiving his Head Boy badge, thinking of the power it would bring him--

He was Harry Potter, riding his Firebolt across the Quidditch pitch--

_No,_ he thought wildly, _no! _A bright light flared up in his eyes, burning like the sun--

But as he came back into consciousness, he realized that the bright light was Sirius' Patronus, and that he was alright. He was fine.

As soon as the Dementor went away, Harry collapsed.

"Remus would no doubt give you chocolate," said Sirius with a smile, "but we have none of that here."

"Did it work?" asked Harry weakly.

Sirius nodded. "I saw a soul escape your body," he told him. "But obviously you still have yours."

Harry felt like he could cry and laugh at the same time. He looked behind him, but saw no veil. "Where-- Sirius, how do we get back? Where's the veil?"

"I don't know," said Sirius sadly. "I've been searching since I ended up here."

"Hermione," Harry breathed, "I'm going to kiss you when I see you." He grabbed the rope around his waist. "Come on!"

Sirius ran after him, as Harry followed the rope back through the fog and past the veil.

"Harry!" Ginny said, scrambling to her feet. "And-- _Sirius?"_

Harry marched right up to Hermione and planted a kiss on her cheek. "I said I would do that." He turned to Draco. "I mean nothing but friendship."

Draco laughed gladly. "I never thought I'd say it," he said, "but I'm glad you're back."

Harry felt refreshed, energized, and ready to take on the world. "I want to do it now," he declared, and pulled his sleeve up.

Sirius looked at him. "Harry--"

But he poked his wand into the scar that Voldemort had left on his forearm in the graveyard in fourth year, calling him.

And suddenly the room was full of Apparating wizards, their dark cloaks swaying. Voldemort stood in front of them, his eyes burning. "You..."

"Now." Harry glared at him. "You're mortal now," he said breathlessly.

"I can still kill you, Harry Potter," Voldemort said wildly.

A dark figure stepped out of the shadows. "You will not touch him."


	31. Chapter 32

"Severus," Voldemort said wispily, "you betray me."

"One good turn deserves another," Snape said silkily. "You promised not to murder Lily Potter, and you did."

"She got in my way!" Voldemort spat.

"You gave me your word." Snape glared at him. "If you would have let her live and came back for the boy another time, he would be dead, you would be immortal, and I'd have the woman I really--" At that moment, he realized Lily's son was standing in the room. "Loved," he finished.

"You," Harry said, amazement in his voice. "No. You and my mum?"

Snape shook his head sadly. "No, Harry. Lily and I never had the chance. She was an exceptional woman, your mother-- but much too blinded by James to ever notice me."

"So you thought killing my dad and me would give her a good fresh start, is that it?"

"No," Snape said, "I never wanted it to be that way."

"That's ancient past," Voldemort snarled.

Snape glared back at his master. "No. You didn't stop."

Draco stepped forward. "That's right. You killed my mum."

"And now you want to kill Harry," Snape said, his voice dripping with disdain. He moved in front of him. "And I'm not going to let that happen."

Voldemort's eyes blazed. "I'm going to kill you," he said stonily, "and then I'm going to kill Harry.

"No you can't," Hermione said, her voice strangely clear and confident. "You can't."

"And why is that, you silly little girl?"

Hermione straightened herself. "Because if you kill Professor Snape, you'll just give Harry the same protection as Lily did." She folded her arms. Draco laughed.

Voldemort leered. "I may not be able to kill you," he said to Snape, "but I can cause you pain!"

Snape raised his wand. And as the first jet of light flew through the air, all hell broke loose.

Fenrir Greyback, poised to attack, dove for Ginny. "Hello, pretty..."

_"Stupefy!"_ hollered Harry, and helped her to her feet.

"You are nothing," Snape yelled at Voldemort, "nothing... I will squash you..."

"You are weak!" Voldemort spat at him, as Hermione sent a Patronus into the air, whispered in its ear, and watched it soar away. "No one matches up to my power!"

Ron was holding off Antonin Dolohov._ "Incarcerous!" _he yelled. _"Petrificus totalus!"_

"Brilliant!" Hermione approved.

Bellatrix held Luna to the floor. "Try," she was shrieking. "Try!"

Luna laid on the floor, calm, not struggling at all. "Are you right in the head?"

_"Expelliarmus!"_ cried Neville, turning Bellatrix's attention towards him.

"Little Longbottom," she said patronizingly. Holding out her hand, her wand snapped into her palm. "Any gum wrappers in your pockets?"

"How do you know about that?" Neville was livid. "You foul--"

She grinned, hair flying in every direction, eyes popping out of her head. "You're fragile," she said in a wilted voice. "All of you Longbottoms."

Neville mustered every ounce of courage he had, all the hate and scars, every last bit of awful feeling, and glared at Bellatrix. "You don't scare me," he said, calm as Luna. _"Stupefy!"_

And he blasted her across the room, sending her into the veil-- it was like slow motion as she met Sirius' gaze, and he waved at her as she disappeared.

Meanwhile, Lucius was advancing on Draco. "So," he said crisply. "This is how you repay me. My only heir, turning on the Dark Lord-- making friends with Harry Potter-- throwing our pure wizarding heritage to the dogs by dating a Mudblood!" He indicated Hermione, who was locked in combat with Natalya.

"Father--"

"Don't speak to me," Lucius drawled, drawing his wand. "I have no more use for you. _Avada--"_

"No!" screamed Hermione, turning from Natalya. She flung out her arm.

But Harry was faster. _"Crucio!" _he screamed. And a jet of light flew from the tip of his wand, hitting Lucius squarely in the chest.

Hermione looked up, shocked, while Percy kept Natalya from hexing her. "Harry!"

"I'd explain myself," Harry said, "but I made a promise."

Draco caught his eye. "Thanks, mate."

Harry nodded.

At that moment, the rest of the Order of the Phoenix appeared in the room, wands brandished.

"Ah," Eva said, taking a deep breath, "battle." And, with her eyes aglow, she jumped into the fray, shooting a jet of red light at Dolohov.

"Merlin's beard," Avery said in a shaky voice. "It's Wingfield."

Her eyes glittered. "Hello, Avery." And in one swift move, she pulled a silver knife from her robes and stabbed him in the heart, then tossed it to Lupin. "Thought you might want this," she said.

Lupin grasped it by the handle and rushed at Greyback, who had pounced on Luna.

"Remus Lupin," growled Greyback. "Still out for vengeance?"

"It's not only about vengeance," Lupin said, staring into Greyback's feral yellow eyes. "It's about preventing you attacking one more child."

"There's nothing you can do." Greyback licked his lips. "They'll all be turned by night's end-- at least, the survivors." He grinned ferociously.

"That's where you're wrong," Lupin said flatly, and drove the knife into Greyback's chest.

"You're not as strong as you once were!" came Snape's cry. "Dumbledore has weakened you! Harry has weakened you! You will never be the greatest wizard alive!"

"Yes, you, the Half-Blood Prince, who created so many spells, so many potions." Voldemort's eyes flashed. _"Sectumsempra!"_

Snape fell to the ground, gashes covering his face.

"Professor!" Harry shouted. He wasn't sure how he felt about Snape; but he would rather see him live than Voldemort.

"Harry." Snape seized the front of his robes. "No more secrets. I want you to know that I didn't want Dumbledore dead any more than you. I would have died rather than see him go-- and I offered it. He was like a father to me, Harry. He-- he believed in me when no one else would, gave me a family."

Harry thought briefly of what Hermione and Draco had said. "Then why did you kill him?"

A tear slid down Snape's cheek. "Because he asked me to."

Voldemort glared at Harry, barely aware of Snape. "How weak he is," came his offhand remark, and he stared directly at Harry. _"Avada..."_

"No," Snape whispered. And he pulled Harry down by the hem of his robes, using every last ounce of strength he had left to take Voldemort's Killing Curse directly in the chest.


	32. Chapter 33

_"Expelliarmus!" _said Harry, a split second after Snape's limp body hit the ground.

Voldemort laughed, a cold, cruel sound that echoed off the walls of the chamber. "And so he sacrifices himself for a disarming! _Accio!"_

His wand flew into his hand. "Do you like it?" he said conversationally to Harry. "I saved the phoenix feather core, you know. But I had to show you the memory, of course, of burning my old one. We couldn't have any more... mishaps."

Harry glared at him. "It doesn't matter, anyway," he spat. "Because I have no more of you left in me. The Dementors saw to that. _You are mortal."_

"I can still kill you, Harry, easier than you can kill me. You have too much love running through those filthy half-blood veins of yours. You will never have the power that I possess."

"And if you conquer the whole world," Harry retorted, "you'll never be able to enjoy it; you have too much hate running through your veins, which are just as half-blooded as mine."

"I want to torture you before I watch you die, you brat," Voldemort seethed, baring his teeth. _"Crucio!"_

_"Stupefy!"_

Jets of light shot out from their wands and met in the middle of the room.

_"Priori incantatem," _Hermione whispered, looking away from her fight with Alecto Carrow for a split second. "God, let him be alright..."

Ron, Stupefied by Antonin Dolohov, crashed into a wall, and their concentration was broken. Harry's spell hit Voldemort, and he went careening into one of the benches.

_"Ennervate!" _said Alecto at once, and Voldemort got to his feet.

"A duel between us," Voldemort said wispily, "will never produce results."

Harry stared.

"So we must make a choice." And out of midair, he grabbed Ginny by the hair, throwing her between himself and Harry. _"Incarcerous!" _

"Don't touch her," Harry demanded automatically, moving to her side.

Voldemort plucked her wand from her hand and watched her struggle for a moment, then turned to Harry. "Leave, and she'll live," he said gravely. "Stay and she dies."

"You're not leaving here alive," Harry said boldly to Voldemort, "and Ginny will walk from this room unscathed."

Voldemort raised his wand. "Have it your way. _Avada--"_

But Harry stepped in front of Ginny and put up his hand. The bullet of light hit his palm, and he fell, turning in mid-fall, meeting Ginny's gaze before his eyes closed.

"Harry!" screeched Ginny, falling to her knees. "Harry, no! Talk to me, Harry... open your eyes..."

"If it's any consolation, you're about to join him," Voldemort said darkly, and pointed his wand at Ginny, who was defenseless. _"Avada Kedavra!"_

Ginny just stared. Voldemort's eyes burned red with shock, two dying embers making one last valiant drive for survival before being extinguished by death's cold breath. His robes rippled as he absorbed his own Killing Curse, tripping backwards over Snape's body, and hit the ground, dead.

The Death Eaters stopped. "My Lord?" said Malfoy, kneeling at his side.

Natalya touched her wand to his forehead. _"Ennervate!" _she cried. _"Ennervate!"_

A shriek sounded, and Hermione dropped to her knees in front of Harry. "Oh, God, no..." She looked up at Ginny. "What happened?"

Ginny was numb with shock. "He died to save me," she whispered.

"Oh, Ginny." Hermione embraced her, and they rocked back and forth together on the stone floor, Harry lying beside them.

Ginny sobbed into her shoulder. "What am I going to do?"

"I don't know." Hermione was crying just as hard. She felt pressure on her shoulder-- it was Draco.

"He died saving us all," Draco said quietly.

"Bloody hell," came a voice, and at once they knew Ron had regained consciousness. Padma and Lupin knelt at his side. "Where's Harry?" He saw Sirius, who was huddled in a corner, his face hidden, and Professor Wingfield, who had little rivers running down her face.

Ginny burst into hysterical tears.

"Oh, no," Ron whispered.

"Come on," Tonks said. "This is no place to be right now."


	33. Chapter 34

It was cruelly beautiful the day of Harry's funeral. Birds sang their summer melodies and the sun made the lake outside Hogwarts sparkle like starlight.

"I hate this," Ginny said to no one in particular. "I feel like nature is mocking us."

Hermione gave her a hug, and they settled into their chairs in the first row.

"I thought Dumbledore's funeral was awful," Ron said, "but I never--" He broke off, giving way to tears.

"There're so many people here," Draco whispered, awed.

Ron put both arms around his sister as she burst into another fit of tears. "It's wonderful," Ginny said, "that they're going to lay him to rest here at Hogwarts with Dumbledore and Hagrid. They were his family."

Professor McGonagall leaned forward. "And his parents," she said quietly.

Ginny turned, surprised.

"His parents were moved here," she told her. "Voldemort couldn't touch him. It was an extension of Lily's protection." She regarded Ginny, laying her finger on the fresh lightning-bolt cut that had been burned into her neck. "Like mother, like son."

Sirius stood next to Harry's casket. "I stand here today," he said at last, "because of my godson's bravery. And I wish with every fiber of my being that I could trade places with him, that I could go back to death so he could breathe in new life. You know-- so many of us owe him our lives, and he never asked for one thing in return. Not once. And now, he has made the ultimate sacrifice. He has given up his place in this world so all of us can sleep peacefully at night, free from the terrors of Voldemort. And he gave it up out of love. He faced death to save Ginny, because she meant more to him than anything." He paused. "His whole life, Harry was known as the Boy who Lived. I think it's only fitting that we should remember him as the Boy who Loved."

Ginny's face was a storm of tears as Ron, Neville, Lupin, Bill, Sirius, and Draco bore the coffin on their shoulders and lowered it into the ground.

And then there was song-- beautiful, majestic song.

"It's Fawkes," Ginny breathed, recognizing the music. He swooped down from the treetops and alighted on Harry's headstone, which had been set into the ground that very morning, along with the markers for Lily and James.

"Hullo," Ginny said softly.

Fawkes cocked his head, looking her in the eye. Tears formed in the phoenix's eyes, and he flew up to perch on her shoulder.

"I've done enough crying for the whole world," Ginny said, "but if you must, please don't cry on my neck. I want to keep that scar."

Fawkes bowed, and hopped off of her, alighting on the ground. He shed one tear on Harry's grave, gave a low cry, and disappeared.


	34. Epilogue

Hermione and Ron, along with Draco and Padma, sat their N.E.W.T.'s idly a few days after Harry's funeral, while rain poured from the sky, and Ginny, claiming the sky was crying with them, sat out near the lake, returning with muddy robes and puffy eyes. All four of them passed, and graduated from Hogwarts-- Hermione with flying colors, of course.

The Death Eaters that were not killed in the battle were sent to Azkaban Prison. No one had thought to take the Cruciatus Curse off of Lucius Malfoy, and he was tortured into insanity; however, instead of being sent to St. Mungo's, he was sent to the criminally insane ward in Azkaban.

Draco Malfoy took up the position as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, immediately after Eva Wingfield decided to go back into retirement. He married Hermione, who joined the Ministry and was a big part of its reform, striking down things like anti-

werewolf legislation.

Ron went to work for the Ministry, taking a position in the Department for International Magical Cooperation, while Padma became an alchemist. They also got married.

Neville spent hours with his parents, and also saw plenty of Luna. He worked at an apothecary, where all his genius in Herbology finally came to fruition, as he discovered an herbal therapy for insanity, and is currently working to nurse his parents to health. Luna, meanwhile, worked as a Healer at St. Mungo's until she took over _The Quibbler._

Tonks and Lupin never officially married, but they lived together for the rest of their lives. Tonks remained an Auror; Lupin came back to Hogwarts as Headmaster after Minerva McGonagall passed away in her sleep.

Sirius became an Unspeakable at the Department of Mysteries, his name officially cleared, and worked until the end of his days in the Death Chamber, striving in vain for a way to bring Harry back.

And Ginny joined the Aurors, eventually becoming the head of the department. She looks in the mirror before going to work every morning, and always wears her hair pulled back, so that she can see her reminder-- so that she can see her scar.


End file.
